


Your Father's Child

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Series: KKM: Someday We Will Get There [2]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon - Book, Childbirth, Duelling, Easter Eggs, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really are your father's child... and no, I don't want to clarify which one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of All the Bad Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just a matter of time, on hindsight... 
> 
> But time is the one thing I don't have right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is Part 2 of my KKM series, although (hopefully) it can stand on its own as well~ Continuing almost directly where we left off, sans wedding, because I don't know how to cover that in a way that hasn't been done before. And we finally get to the point I'm writing any of this at all-- Mpreg! xDD

Three months into our honeymoon, and I’m being violently sick.

                “Wolf…”

                I glare at my newlywed husband, and he shirks away like a frightened mouse. “This is all your fault! If you weren’t so stubborn about—Urgh!”

                The remains of my already meager breakfast disappear into the sea.

                “I’m sorry, Wolf…” He looks so sincerely miserable that I almost forgive him. Almost. “If I had known… But I thought that with Giesela here…”

                A familiar warmth presses against my back as he wraps his arms around me from behind. I can feel his heart pounding steadily through his chest, and its rhythm soothes my suffering just a little.

                I sigh. “All right, all right. It’s my fault that I get seasick so easily.”

                But really, even I had no idea that my seasickness could get this bad—so bad that even Giesela’s special new medicine stopped working after a few weeks. And Yuuri had made extra care to find a cure before suggesting we tour around the neighboring countries for our honeymoon, too. Sure, as the 27th Demon King and his new Prince Consort, we had to exchange formalities for every country we stopped in, but in exchange for some diplomatic niceties, Yuuri convinced Gwendal to lengthen our vacation.

                Although it seems like the holiday has to be cut short now.

                “Where’s Conrad?” Yuuri asks worriedly. “Maybe he knows what to do…”

                “He doesn’t. If he did, I wouldn’t be puking my guts out now, would I?” I try to keep my voice level and patient. There was a reason I specifically allocated Conrad and Yozak a single cabin, and no matter how much I love him, I’m not going to let my husband ruin my brother’s already difficult love life.

                “Well, if you ever feel tired--”

                _“Your Majesty!”_ Whatever he meant to say is drowned out in the panicked shrieks of a soldier. I recover enough to frown at him, and spend just one second resenting the way he destroyed the romance of the moment. Then I’m all business. I don’t need to see the cold white fear to know that whatever news he’s bringing, it’s not good.

                “Calm down,” Yuuri says soothingly, even patting his back when the man puts his hands on his knees, panting hard. “Take your time, breathe…”

                I don’t even have the time to roll my eyes before the soldier presents a crumpled letter, his hand and voice trembling.

                “Y-Your Majesty— _There’s been a rebellion in the country!”_

Yuuri’s smile fades. There’s a prick of fear in those black eyes, not for himself, but for his people. A few years ago, he would probably have freaked out as well, grabbing the nearest person frantically for advice. But now he keeps his composure, the gears in his head already in motion. I have to admit, I’m proud.

                So why do I have such a bad feeling?

                The world spins around me, and I try to grab the railing for support. But my eyes deceive me, and my fingers wrap around Yuuri’s arm instead, with more force than I intended.

                “Wolf, are you--”

                I shake my head at him. This is an important obstacle for him as king. I can’t let myself distract him.

                “Who dares disrupt the peace of our fair kingdom?” I demand of the soldier, but my voice comes out shockingly weak. Yuuri must be looking positively alarmed now… If only the world would stop blurring enough for me to see him properly…

                The soldier hesitates, and when he speaks his voice is even smaller than mine was. Yet, his words reverberate through my mind as though he screamed them into my ears.

                “It’s Lord von Bielefelt, Your Highness. Lord Waltrana von Bielefelt.”

                _Whump._ My head rings, the final few strands of my consciousness blown away, and the last thing I hear before falling completely into that deep, dark abyss is Yuuri’s voice, finally panicked—

                _“Wolf!_ ”

                …Wimp. And just when I was thinking how good a king you’ve become.

 

I don’t know when exactly I fell in love with Yuuri Shibuya.

                It’s not as early as most people think it is… or at least, I don’t think it is. Anyone who says that I was captivated from the moment those black eyes looked up at me from the palace porch is an idiot. I didn’t know him well enough to say I hated him, but I definitely had no good impression of the half-breed that stole my eldest brother’s throne.

                Although I agree with everyone that he is exceptionally cute, the type that overthrows every idea you had of cuteness before you met him*.

                It definitely wasn’t when he ‘proposed’ to me, either. Honestly, how can anyone take that seriously? He obviously had no idea what he was doing. More than anything else, I was deeply offended, and I thought I made it clear with my actions. His beating me at the duel was probably the moment I accepted him as an acceptable king. But certainly not as my fiancé.

                It irks me to no end, but he was right when he confided in me on the night of our wedding, saying how he suspected that my previous possessiveness and jealousy were all out of pride. As far as I was concerned, I was protecting my good name, and fulfilling my duty as a minister to the Demon King. So maybe my reactions were a tad exaggerated. I’ve never been one to hide my thoughts behind a mask of falsities. So maybe I was taking it a bit personally. This was my pride at stake here.

                So maybe I was being a bit overprotective. He was my king. My friend.

                So maybe…

                So maybe I’ve been in love with him the whole time.

                “…Wolfram? Don’t scare me, Wolf, don’t do this to me…”

                My eyes flicker open, and I wonder, not for the first time, how humans can find a color as comforting and reassuring as his pure black ominous. “Are you crying? You really are such a--”

                He cuts me off with a kiss. It tastes salty.

                I want to close my eyes and savor it, but a gagging reflex at the back of my throat forces me to push him away and swing my face over the bed. There’s nothing left in my stomach for me to hurl, not even acid, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

                “Wolf…!”

                A soothing light envelops me, one I recognize as Gielsela’s healing magic. The brunette* is smiling at me gently, and at times like this it’s easy to pretend that her ‘Sergeant’ mode is something akin to Yuuri’s ‘General’* state—totally out of control, to be treated as a separate entity altogether. Only it isn’t. “Does this help, Your Highness?”

                I nod mutely, not trusting myself to open my mouth.

                “Giesela, what’s wrong with him?” Yuuri asks hastily. Once I can talk again, I’d better tell him to train up his kingly poker face. The way he looks right now, he’s practically announcing to the world how important I am to him.

                I won’t say I don’t like it, but still.

                Giesela pauses, and that horrible feeling is back. I just know that whatever she’s going to say won’t be good—In fact, by now I have a pretty good idea what it is. But I can’t stop her from telling him, not only because Yuuri’s our king, but also because he’s my most important person. And I never want to hide anything from him.

                “I’m not sure if I should say congratulations, Your Majesty… but it seems that His Highness is pregnant.”

                I thought so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you might have noted, Part 2 will be written mostly from Wolfram's POV. The original novelist does switch POVs for some longer short stories (oxymoron lol), mainly Murata's, and I think maybe Conrad once or twice? As usual, these narrations shared a lot of dark insight into the characters' minds... Murata is a lot more than what he seems to be in the anime. And don't be alarmed by loads of angst in the tags-- that's just my sadism poking through :3


	2. A Little White Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right? No matter what, I won't let myself be his burden. 
> 
> This hard-earned happiness of ours, I will defend it with my own hands. Even if I have to betray your trust to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuity, and the longest chapter in the series yet! Thanks for all your support~ Also, I realize I forgot to elaborate on some of the *s in the previous chapter, so I'll do both in the end notes! Hraaah, I'm getting more motivated than ever!! xDD

“He’s… _what_?!”

                I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Yuuri, I thought you read that book!”

                “Book? What book?”

                I should have known… “The one the Great Sage gave you! _The Mazoku Encyclopedia on Healthcare , Intercourse, Reproduction, Related Diseases and their Prospective Cures_!”

                The expression on his face is telling me, _What’s with you Mazoku and ridiculously long names?_

                Well, it’s safe to say that this child will be getting a short and sweet Earthly name… Wait, what am I thinking?!

                “Your Majesty and Your Highness don’t seem so pleased with the news…” Giesela is saying slowly, her gaze shifting between us with a sad uncertainty. “I understand, since male pregnancies are--”

                “—no problem at all,” I interrupt her, loud enough to wake Yuuri from his trance. Come to think of it, I should be glad he never read that book. “Men’s bodies are stronger than women’s, after all. Besides, aren’t there other things you’re supposed to be worrying about, wimp?”

                “Don’t call me that,” he says on instinct, but his eyes are warm and gentle, threatening to melt me on the spot. He runs his fingers through my hair to comfort me, a habit he got into recently, and I have to resist the ridiculous urge to purr. Not while Giesela is watching.

                “Stop trying to distract me! What are we going to do about--” My tongue trips over the words, “—Lord von Bielefelt’s rebellion?”

                “Your Highness, you shouldn’t--!”

                I silence Giesela with a glare, but too late, Yuuri’s grip on the back of my head tightens. He pulls me towards him and kisses me softly on the forehead, saying firmly, “Not ‘we’. Me. You just take it easy.”

                “Yuuri!” A sudden rush of anger heats my cheeks, making them tingle. “Remember what you promised me that night you confessed? Don’t you dare go back on that now!”

                He had promised to never baby me, or take me away from the frontlines. It was the only thing I asked from him before agreeing to marry him, for real this time. It hasn’t been even three months since then, and already--!

                “Wolf, this is different.” He still remembers, and it’s making him uncomfortable. “I mean, you’re—you’re--”

                “I’m pregnant.” Since he’s so scared to say it, I finish his sentence for him. “It happens, deal with it. Unless--” My eyes narrow dangerously, “You’d rather I not be?”

                “No, no, of course not!” He practically falls over himself to reassure me, and I immediately feel like a jerk. Of course he wants this child, even if we didn’t mean for it. My double-black king, who’s already so kind to any stranger he meets on the road, would probably spoil his children rotten. No, wait, he’s already tried it with Greta. Sometimes I thank the stars she came to us as a relatively mature ten-year-old.

                I sigh. Who knows how much stupider he will act when faced with a newborn? And that’s supposing I’ll survive a year of his endless fussing. “I’m pregnant, not dying. And that’s my family, Yuuri. You can’t stop me from going.”

                He bites his lip, hesitant. Half a year ago, I had been elected as the new head of the von Bielefelt clan. Then one thing happened after another, and well… I can’t be a good ruler if I haven’t even set foot onto my own lands since then. “Part of this is probably my fault, you know.”

                “It’s not!” His tone is surprisingly forceful. “I understand that you want to help, Wolf, but just this once, can you leave it up to me? Please?”

                Well, two can play at that game. “Your Majesty, as your faithful minister, it is my duty to accompany you on such a dangerous duty!”

                He winces visibly, and guilt pricks away at my heart. He always had a weakness for people talking to him formally, but especially so when it came to me*. For as long as I can remember, all I had to do was don the face of a soldier, and he could never deny me anything. It’s shameless of me to exploit him like this, but when you’re the youngest not only in the family and also in the court, you learn how to make use of your assets.

                Except I forgot one thing. He’s no longer just my king, just as I am now more than simply his general.

                “As your husband, I won’t let you.” He grabs my arms and buries his face in my shoulders. Is it the rocking of the boat, or is he shaking? “We went through a lot to get here, Wolf. I know you’ll probably be safer than me over there, and me worrying about you is like a really bad joke, but just once, won’t you let me protect you instead?”

                “Yuuri…”

                “Your Majesty,” Giesela speaks up suddenly. “I think… I think you don’t have to worry. A male pregnancy becomes quite stable after the first trimester. Your wedding was three months ago, no? If you can just determine when the child was conceived…”

                Yuuri and I look at each other, then turn away simultaneously, faces burning.

                “I see.” Giesela giggles—she actually _giggles_. “I suppose it is a hard question to ask newlyweds, hmm?”

                “And you know it,” I mumble, before stifling a yawn. The mischievous schoolgirl disappears instantly, and Giesela is again the efficient healer, ushering Yuuri out of the room.

                “His Highness is slightly weak from dehydration, but other than that he’s perfectly fine. What he needs now is rest--” She pauses, “—so I think it might be best if Your Majesty stays in a different cabin tonight.”

                “Yuuri!” I call to him before she closes the door. “Don’t tell anyone else, you hear me? Otherwise you don’t even _think_ about stepping back in here!”

                “Not even Conrad?”

                My silence is answer enough. _Especially_ not Conrad.

                Once the door is safely closed behind her, Giesela’s expression turns solemn. “He _will_ find out eventually, Your Highness. Are you sure you want to keep hiding it from him?”

                I nod with all the authority I have. “He has enough on his plate as it is. There is no need to give him an unnecessary worry.”

                “Unnecessary!” Giesela repeats, almost angrily. “I would think that to him, there is nothing more _necessary_ than the safety of his husband and child!”

                I flinch away from her fury, my hand moving almost instinctively to my stomach in the face of a possible threat. I wasn’t lying when I said that men’s bodies are stronger than women’s, but what I conveniently forgot to mention is that our bodies are also firmer, and more resistant to change. That’s why, out of the four trimesters in the average Mazoku pregnancy, the first and last will be the trickiest for me. In the first three months, my body will decide whether to accept or reject the foreign life form growing inside of me, no matter what my mind thought or my heart wanted.

                Giesela puts her hand over mine with a frown, feeling for that movement that I hadn’t known was there until less than an hour ago. “If only we can tell for sure…  I know it’s close, but…” And she sighs again. What was it that Yuuri likes to say? A sigh takes away three years of your life? At this rate, Giesela will be a crone before she knows it.

                Not that I’m going to tell her that.

                “It’s just—this is my first time dealing with the child of a Maou.”

                Oh, yeah. There’s still that.

                Giesela catches my reaction, her expression dead serious. “Lady Celi was fine because she was the one bearing the children, but you know how risky it can be for someone other than the Maou to carry a child with so much potential. I’m not underestimating your abilities here, Your Highness—Quite the contrary, it’s because I know how adept you are at magic that I worry.”

                Although no one knows exactly when, at one point during the pregnancy the unborn child gains a soul. And even though I’ve only known about this little one for an hour, I can already tell that he or she won’t have just any average soul. The last trimester is dangerous because that will probably be when I have to balance both souls in my body, as well as prepare myself physically for delivery.

                “It won’t be easy,” Giesela says softly. “It might even kill you. So are you still sure you want to--”

                “I’m sure.” I know what she’s going to say, but some irrational part of me doesn’t want her to say it. As though I’m scared my baby will hear her.

                She looks at me long and hard, but finally she gives in. “Your Highness is doing this for His Majesty’s sake, that I know. For His Majesty, I will keep this a secret, and hope that I’m worrying over nothing.”

                “Giesela…” I’m asking her to lie to her king, a crime close to treason. It is a lot to ask of anybody.

                “But!” Her tone sharpens abruptly, and I’m face to face with the infamous ‘Sergeant’ Giesela. “Your Highness has to swear not to do anything that might harm yourself or the child. If you so much as put a toe out of line, I assure you, I will track His Majesty down personally and tell him everything, even if I have to travel to the other world to do it!”

                If the Sergeant ever manages to travel between worlds… I shudder for the unsuspecting, peace-loving people of Earth. They’ll never see it coming.

 

“…Conrad? Conrad! Lord Conrart Weller!”

                I bang the door as loudly as I can without waking everyone else on board. Just when I’m swinging my fist at it for the umpteenth time, it swings open abruptly, and I’m thrown off balance—

                “Whoa, there.” My half-brother catches me with a chuckle. He’s in full uniform, without a hair out of place. If I hadn’t known who he was so carefully shielding with his back, if I hadn’t had to knock on his door for almost ten minutes before getting a reply, I could almost believe that he had been on standby the entire time. “What’s the matter? I heard from His Majesty that you’re not feeling well—

                “I’m just a bit dehydrated, that’s all,” I wave off his concern. “You know Yuuri, he likes to worry over nothing.”

                “Your health is not nothing,” Lord Weller says in a way that echoes Giesela eerily. “What could be so important that you have to sneak up on me in the middle of the night like this?”

                “Don’t put it like that, aren’t you afraid of someone getting jealous?” I peek past him into the room. There’s a flash of bright orange under the covers. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I need a favor.”

                Conrad raises an eyebrow, the one with the scar on it. “Which is?”

                I take a deep breath, and meet his gaze with all the conviction I have. “I want you to accompany me to the von Bielefelt lands. Yuuri cares too much to let me go, but this is my mess, and no matter what, I will never let myself be his burden. So please…”

                I hang my head. “…Little Big Brother, please?”

                Like I said, as the youngest in the family, sometimes you just had to use whatever you had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, on the character of Waltrana von Bielefelt. Not sure if he's present in the novels, but the chances are high since he's in the manga, if only for a passing mention. Of course, that mention is in the same breath with Stoffel, so we can be sure that's NOT a good thing. 
> 
> The first * in the first chapter is about the Mazoku's 'sense of beauty'. Yes, they do actually regard Yuuri as a AA rank bishie, something our intrepid hero can't for the life of him understand xD As for the 'General' mode-- better translated into the 'Shogun' mode, perhaps?-- it isn't as cool as it seems in the anime. For one thing, his appearance doesn't change-- his eyes don't narrow, his hair doesn't grow longer. And the way he speaks is like a bad cross of pompous medieval lingo and lame pop culture references orz... Yuuri treats it like something possessing his body, and he only shows up when Yuuri is feeling especially negative, like in extreme anger, hurt or self-loathing, though not in grief (thank goodness). In fact, it is this auto-pilot mode that causes him to accidentally stab Wolfram in Seisakoku...
> 
> It is also true that Yuuri is helpless against Wolfram when the latter goes all formal on him, and both of them know it, though again I'm not too sure if that's in the anime...


	3. A Nostalgic Tradition(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things change. Other people... don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, the Internet connection was acting up T^T... To make up for it I'll post both chapters today, plus a special translation of all the novel prologues~

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell His Majesty about this?” Conrad asks worriedly as we row away on the small lifeboat.

                I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him. He’s sounding more and more like Giesela with each passing moment, and that can’t be a good thing. “Conrad, you know what Yuuri’s like. He’ll overreact.”

                My second brother smiles a little at that. “He does tend to worry. But he should know by now that you’re not as fragile as you look.”

                “I know, right?” I agree vehemently, conveniently forgetting about that little detail that Yuuri is aware of and Conrad...isn’t. Even I have to admire my own foresight when I warned Yuuri not to tell him.

                Somehow, I don’t expect my ‘Little Big Brother’ to take the matter too differently from my husband, should he find out.

                “…Wolfram? Are you all right?”

                “Huh?” Shit, did I daze off? “Sorry, I’m fine.”

                By the way, since when did rowing feel so tiring?

                “You look pale.” Lord Weller is as observant as always. “Why don’t you take a break and let me do the rowing for a while?”

                The weariness washes over me like a wave, and reluctantly I nod. “Thanks. I’ll take over later, just let me… for a while…”

                I rest my head on the side of the boat, and am asleep before I even finish that sentence.

*

 _“Wolfram!_ ”

                The young king’s voice reverberates throughout the large ship, waking almost everyone up at the crack of dawn. This is the royal envoy, after all, and the soldiers onboard are the crème de la crop, even if they’re just here to follow Their Royal Highnesses on their honeymoon.

                Even so, none of them could have done a thing if the Prince Consort and his lord brother wanted to make a speedy escape in the middle of the night.

                The Sergeant’s expression is livid while she’s looking down at the poor nightguard, bound up and gagged in the hull of the ship. His Highness hadn’t even tried to make excuses—just knocked the soldier out and took the boat. Man didn’t even stand a chance.

                “Giesela!” The king practically tumbles down the wooden stairs in his panic. “Wolfram—Where do you think he—Why would he—Will he be--?”

                “Please, calm down, Your Majesty,” she turns to him soothingly, though when she remembers the conversation she had just last night with his husband she can’t help but bite her lip in frustration. It was past the time to pretend now. “I have a good idea where His Highness went, and I think you do too. The best thing to do now would be to instruct the captain to stir the ship towards Shin Makoku—specifically towards the Bielefelt lands, and hope that we’re not too late.”

                “Too late…” The king echoes hollowly. “Giesela, what do you mean by…? Nothing will happen to him, right? I mean, Conrad’s…”

                Giesela perks up at the knowledge that the second son is with Wolfram, but when she sees Gurrier loitering around the doorway, watching his liege with a hawk’s eye, her hope is quickly dashed. “If Yozak had gone with them, perhaps. But Lord Weller alone cannot stop His Highness from doing as he pleases—especially seeing as he is unaware of the danger in the first place.”

                “Danger…?”

                It hurt her to see her king, who has matured so much, become so strong over the past years, look so frail and helpless now. But she knows it’s only natural when someone so important is involved, and even the Demon King is not heartless. In fact, their 27th Maou is very much the opposite of that, and that’s precisely the reason why she loves and respects him.

                Still, it doesn’t make her hate having to tell him the truth any less.

                “Your Majesty, actually--”

                For the first time in a long while, the double-black Demon King’s beautiful eyes show despair.

*

“Yuuri…”

                It’s cowardly, I know, but I force myself to wake up before I have to see any more of my husband’s pain. I can’t explain why I had that dream, or why I’m so sure that it wasn’t _just_ a dream, but I know that the tightness in my chest is very much real.

                It won’t be my first time hiding something from Yuuri*, but how I wish it will be the last.

                “Wolfram.” Conrad smiles at me, blissfully unaware of the havoc his other half is going through together with the king, back on the ship. And suddenly I feel a little guilty about that too. Lord Weller isn’t going to be any better off than me when they finally catch up with us. “Feeling better?”

                “Yeah.” And I’m surprised to realize that it’s true. The clear bright sky puts the time at about eight or nine in the morning, and as I stretch out my limbs I can’t feel even a hint of last night’s overwhelming exhaustion. Something about the unpredictability of my own body is troubling, but at least I’m good to go now. We don’t have much of a headstart, and if they find us before we finish what we have to get done…

                I shudder involuntarily at the thought.

                The Lion of Lutenberg is known for his many things, one of which is his efficiency on the field. Be it camping out in No-Man’s-Land or helping his baby brother run away from home(?), I have to admit, my brother is better than me. While I was snoring away, he had rowed us directly to the nearest dock, found us a pair of good strong horses and located the shortest path to the von Bielefelt lands.

                As I swing myself onto my steed, I feel the already familiar dizziness looming at the corners of my consciousness. Firmly I shake it away—I haven’t fallen off a horse’s back since I first started my lessons when I was eight, and I don’t need to be a genius to know that regressing now would be a very, very bad idea. So I tighten my grip on the reins, ignoring the sudden awkwardness of my body, and set the horse galloping at a reasonable pace.

                There… that’s not too bad, is it?

                The nagging fear that began last night when my body refused to let me row dies down a little. And really, I’m still the person I was yesterday morning, right? I was fine before, and I’m fine now. Giesela’s announcement changed nothing, just told me something I may or may not have already suspected. I survived three months without knowing, I can survive the rest. In fact, since I haven’t hurled into the forest yet, I’d say I’m feeling even better than I did yesterday.

                Although since I deliberately avoided breakfast, I’m not sure how long that’ll last.

                Turns out we’re not that far away from our destination—it takes us only a few hours, minus lunch because neither of us felt like it, and by afternoon I am riding past the familiar sights of my own territory. The hills and forests are the same, but something has changed. It is proof of my failure as leader that it takes me the journey all the way to the palace to realize what that something is.

                The people. My people are preparing for war.

                “Wait here,” Conrad says as we approach the palace gate, and I nod, pulling my hood lower. Either some habits die hard, or my brother has picked up a few tricks from his lover. Either way, one day I’m going to ask him exactly how many cloaks he carries around, and why.

                Not today though.

                “Lord Weller, the pleasure is mine.” Uncle—No, Lord Waltrana Bielefelt looks exactly as I remember him. After all, half a year really is not much in the life of a Mazoku, no matter how much the rest of the world might have changed in that time. “So what, may I ask, is the king’s personal escort doing here without His Majesty?”

                Conrad throws a glance my way. We agreed that covered up completely, I look enough like Yuuri to fool the casual observer. That’s how he managed to smuggle me past the palace guards—men who could not afford to blow the king’s cover, no matter how bad that cover is. But something this crude can never pull the eyes of a soldier, or a professional swordsman.

                My uncle is both.

                “Why, Uncle?” I ask with a sigh, sweeping off the cloak. “I thought you would know better.”

                “Are you asking me, Wolfram?” His tone is light and deceptively conversational. “You, as my successor and current lord of these lands, who decided to throw aside all your responsibilities and chase after the boy king, wagging your tail?”

                I clench my fist at my side. “I admit that I have not performed my duties as well as I should. That’s why I’m here to fix that.”

                He tilts his head to a side playfully, but his eyes, so similar to mine, are cold. “Forgive me if I can’t believe you. You are the new Prince Consort—I can’t be sure if your first loyalties lie with your clan or your spouse.”

                “Yuuri is our king!” My temper finally gets the better of me. “Stop this foolishness, uncle, our loyalties lie with our king and country!”

                “Yes, but does he consider us?” His voice is soft but the anger beneath those words is unmistakable. “Our ancestor swore his allegiance to Shinou as an ally, not a slave. Are you forgetting your von Bielefelt pride, nephew? I apologize, but I can no longer trust you to uphold our clan’s interests in court. And as your predecessor, it is my duty to personally take back what you gave away.”

                “Even if you have to commit treason for it?” My own words sound dangerously low to my ears, and when Conrad reaches for my shoulder, frowning, I brush him off.  It’s fine, I want to tell him. I can handle this. If even that wimp has grown enough these past few years to be able to rule a country, the least I can do to help him, as minister and as consort, is to govern my own land properly.

                 “Staying away for so long was a mistake on my part, and words cannot express how much I regret it. As such, I will do whatever it takes to make up for it. However--” My fist tightens over the hilt of my sword. “I cannot approve of you leading our innocent people to a pointless war!”

                “Pointless?” he demands, eyes alight with fury. “Listen to yourself, Wolfram! What happened to your pride as a nobleman, as a member of the von Bielefelt clan! The half-breed king has made a coward out of you, he has made a mockery of our family!”

                “Enough!” I roar. “His Majesty has promised not to interfere with my duties as head of our clan, and to keep our personal relationship separate from--”

                “And you believe him? Ha!” There is a glint of madness in those beautiful eyes that I once looked up to. “Oh, Wolfram, has your love robbed you of your common sense? He married you for your power, for your ancestry, to strengthen his greedy hold on the throne, to ensure some nobility in the children of his own filthy blood!”

                “ _Shut up!_ ” Yuuri isn’t like that, he’s got it all wrong! “I haven’t lost sight of who I am, I _will_ fight and defend our family name if I have to!”

                Waltrana’s lips curve, his smile sending chills to the very bottom of my heart. A fair hand reaches into his breast pocket, and he throws something to the ground with a metallic clang. “Then prove it.”

                I can’t hesitate, not even for a moment. “I will.”

                But no matter how hard I try to stop it, my hand trembles a little as I pick up the ornate silver knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I notice that there are fewer *s in the story now... I'll be sure to add more in the following chapters, but for now please enjoy my own crazy imagination *bows*
> 
> The thing Wolf hid from Yuuri happens at the end of the latest book, hinting at the new arc, so I can't elaborate too much about it. For now, let's just say that it has something to do with the Forbidden Boxes and a possessive Shinou :3


	4. With Everything I Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I can't protect you, I'll avenge you. If I can't avenge you, I'll follow you.
> 
> But as long as there's still a chance, as long as you haven't given up yet, I promise, I won't give up either.
> 
> I'll keep you with me, whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: Character torture and cliffhanger ending.
> 
> You have been warned :3

The strong win, and the winners decide. That is, and has always been, the Mazoku way.

                I look at myself in the mirror, smiling bitterly. Once upon a time, I was the one who challenged my superior to a duel over what I deemed to be an insult to my pride. Although my reflection seems no different than it did since that fateful day three years ago, only I know myself can know exactly how much I’ve changed inside. Sometimes I wondered how things might have ended up if I had won that duel back then. Now I know that there was no way I could have won, be it in physical skill, magical prowess or in pure heart.

                In fact, you could say that that loss changed the way I look at winning forever. I’m glad I lost.

                But I can’t afford to lose now.

                I pin the rose to my lapel and make my way into the courtyard.

                The von Bielefelt family takes pride in many things, amongst them our appearance. As a child, I would watch duelists battle it out decked in their finest, and admire how they managed to look so gorgeous even in life-and-death situations. Now all I can think about is how stupid that tradition is, how superficial and impractical. As for glorifying duels to the death—

                “After I win this,” I declare to my uncle quietly, “I’m going to propose abolishing such duels to the court.”

                My predecessor frowns, his angelic features making even displeasure look beautiful. “I never would have expected you to fall so low, nephew. It seems that I was right to lure you away from that foolish king.” He unsheathes his sword and swings it to his side in one elegant movement. “After _I_ win, I’m keeping you under house arrest. All of us make mistakes, Wolfram. As long as you repent, I can still forgive you yours.”

                I sigh inwardly, allowing the weariness to sag my shoulders for but one second before I too draw my weapon. Not too long ago, I might have been the one saying those words. Not too long ago, the idea of doing away with such a time-honored tradition would have been considered blasphemy.

               But in that not too long a span of time since then, someone had come around and taught all of us a lesson on peace. It’s not just me. Besides, I would never make a proposal that didn’t have at least a 50% chance of passing.

                Heh. It seems that I still have my pride, after all.

                “En garde!” Lord Waltrana makes the first move, diving at me with a jab. I sidestep it easily, parrying it with the side of my blade. The screeching sound made when steel meets steel grates harsh on my ears, and in spite of myself I flinch away from it. In high-level swordfights such as this, even the smallest opening is a huge opportunity for the opponent. My uncle swings his sword back-handed with every intention to maim, and a hasty stumble backwards is all that saves my left arm from being amputated.

                Conrad knows better than to distract me at such a time, but I still notice out of the corner of my eye how he took half a step towards us the moment I was cut. If he ever believes that I am in any real trouble, I am sure that he’ll interfere, with or without my consent. The thought is frustrating—I can fight my own battles, thank you very much!-- but at the same time strangely reassuring.

                “What’s wrong, nephew?” At least my uncle has the grace not to attack while I’m dealing with my wound—or should I call it his soft-heartedness? “You seem distracted. I am fairly sure this is not the way I trained you.”

                “Lord Weller trained me, not you*,” I reply curtly, tearing apart my handkerchief to try and stem the bleeding on my arm. Even if I managed to avoid the full extent of the blow, his sword still left a deep gash on my bicep. There is no time to try and heal it completely—I kick myself mentally as I perform the most basic first aid, just enough to keep me in the game. A few years of relative peace, and I really have gone soft.

                I turn back to my opponent, keeping my gaze resolutely away from my only ally in the castle. Come to think of it, I haven’t fought any battles on my own for a long time now. It’s hard to believe that even I, Wolfram von Bielefelt, had started to rely on others.

                “Ready?” I point my blade at my predecessor. This fight is mine, and mine alone. “Hraah!”

                I charge at his head with a double-handed thrust. All these years haven’t yet allowed me to close the height difference between us, and all he has to do is turn his face to one side. My sword takes off a few strands of his sunlight-golden hair, but nothing more. Of course, I hadn’t expected to get him with such a linear attack—my main motive was to get closer to him. At such a pointblank distance, my height and litheness give me an advantage.

                My uncle has always been more of a strength-type fighter, specializing in powerful strokes and thrusts. In comparison, my body size and shape make me better suited to agility, and I would be a fool not to use my skills against his weaknesses. Now that I am close enough, I launch into a flurry of attacks, feints and dodges, aiming for the left when I’m actually sweeping to his right, and keeping both of us quick on our feet. Although such a fast-paced offense rapidly drains my stamina, I am confident that age is a factor on my side this time. Even if I can’t break his defense, I just have to hold out until—

                “Silly boy.”

                All it takes is one long stride. He takes a small cut on his chest, but in exchange he steps clear away from my attack range, but still well within his own. I was careless, I should have sealed all his exits—

                He pivots on one leg and kicks me solidly in the stomach.

*

“Mmph!” Yuuri keels over suddenly, falling off his horse.

                “Your Majesty!” Giesela hurries over to his side, but Yozak beats her to it. Lifting his young monarch easily with one arm, his movements are firm yet surprisingly gentle. “What is it, ‘Majesty? Where does it hurt?”

                “I don’t know…” The pain is gone as suddenly as it came, but when Yuuri tries to push the hair out of his eyes, he finds his forehead slick with a cold sweat. “Wolfram…”

                The name that has been weighing heavily on his mind comes easily to his tongue, but saying it aloud can do nothing to assuage his fears. His husband is in trouble, he knows it.

                “Yozak, how much further to the von Bielefelt territory?”

                “Two hours, tops… Wait, Your Majesty!”

                _I’m almost there, Wolf… Wait for me!_

_*_

So… this is it. After all that big talk, I failed to protect my own child.

                The pain throbbing in my stomach is excruciating, worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. It almost feels like my body is being split apart with a blunt axe, and it takes all my willpower just to stay conscious. If it hurts so much to me… I can’t imagine a fetus of barely three months taking it and surviving.

                “Get up.” My uncle’s voice floats into my ears as though from a distance, disapproving and just a little confused. “I didn’t hit you hard enough to cause so much damage. Take it like a man and stand up.”

                Conrad is hesitating at the sidelines. I can see that he’s perplexed too—Uncle Waltrana had obviously gone easy on me, and such a blow normally would just leave me slightly winded. In theory, I should be back on my feet in two seconds, even more indignant and pumped up than ever.

                But they don’t know… Because I can’t let them know…

                Blood rises in my throat, and I force myself to swallow it back down. I can’t afford to lose any more blood… But despite my best efforts I still feel a warm trickle down the corners of my lips and—between my legs.

                Choking back a sob, I fold my hands over my stomach _._

 _I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you… But--_ My eyes glint unnaturally bright with despair and determination as I pick up my sword again-- _I’ll finish what we started._

_I won’t let your sacrifice be in vain._

                _“Hyaaaaaaaaaargh!_ ”

                I was holding back before. I tried not to think about the other life within me, but knowing that I wasn’t completely alone, that another person depended on me, had made me subconsciously unwilling to exert my full strength.

                There was no point now.

                I charge at my uncle with reckless self-abandon, taking him by surprise. His blade nicks my waist, my chest, but the pain from such small wounds is nothing compared to the piercing, pulsing pain in my stomach and my heart. Screaming like a feral animal, I knock his sword away with such a force that it leaves us both empty-handed, our weapons skidding away like Yuuri’s favorite tops on the courtyard ground. _Yuuri, how am I going to face Yuuri…_

                The flames respond to my wail of anguish, gathering in my palms. Conrad might have trained me in the ways of swordfighting, but my uncle was the one who taught me all there was to know about controlling the element of fire-- and not my absentee father who was so emotionally detached that he wouldn’t even go to the delivery room when I was born*. To use fire magic against my teacher is suicide.

                But maybe that doesn’t sound too bad right now.

                Right now, I think as I howl, bringing my fistful of flames towards my uncle’s face, all I have to do is win this duel, and save my clan from committing treason. I can’t think of what will happen to me afterwards. I don’t want to think.

                Lord Waltrana’s eyes widen, the dancing red flames reflecting the fear in them. He is a refined gentleman, used to refined duels. My suddenly going berserk has taken him off guard. Now all I have to do is slam this fire into his face, and the duel will be over—

                “That’s enough, Wolfram.”

                A firm hand stops my wrist just inches away from my predecessor, and the older man falls rather inelegantly onto his rear. I look up, my expression uncharacteristically cold, at the person who just prevented me from avenging my unborn child.

                “It’s over, Wolf.” Conrad’s stern tone doesn’t last. It never does with me. “You won.”

                The gentleness in his voice almost makes me break down there and then, but I don’t. If I do, if I show my uncle how vulnerable I am now, all I did, all I went through will be for nothing. So I hold my head high and keep my von Bielefelt pride intact, even though all I want to do is curl up and hug my stomach-- willing the pain to stop, yet fearing that when it does, it would only mean that I’ve lost this child forever.

                “Help me, Conrad,” I whisper, my voice coming out like that of a terrified boy. “Bring me back to my room… now.”

                My poor little big brother… If it were anyone else, he would have understood what was happening by now. But it’s not anyone else, it’s me, and he cannot, _will_ not understand what his instincts and common sense are telling him.

                Wordlessly he helps me to my feet, half-carrying me into the castle. Even though he’s as gentle as he can possibly be, the slightest movement almost causes me cry out in pain. I bite my lip to keep myself quiet, tasting the metallic tang of blood again. There’s so much blood… I’m leaving a trail of it as we go, and I can’t help but wonder, whose blood is that? Is it all mine, or is it…?

                No! It can’t be! Once we’re out of sight, Conrad picks me up into his arms in a princess carry and sprints for my room. He must have figured it out… I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing both my hands onto my stomach, feeling for that vaguest of movements…

                A faint heartbeat flutters deep in my lower abdomen, and I feel tears come to my eyes. He’s still there, he hasn’t given up yet…!

                I summon the source of all my magic—my soul*, using it as fuel to keep the feeble life in my belly burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I tried to shoehorn some trivia in here, some rather obvious and others a little out of place... but I've been dying to write this bit for ages, I hope you enjoy it!


	5. Yuuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd ask why you were so stubborn, except I kinda accepted that when I fell in love with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger~ //actually not sorry at all //shot
> 
> And the chapter title is also the POV :3

“ _Wolfram_!” I burst through the castle doors, my voice echoing through the empty corridors.

                “Something’s wrong, Your Majesty,” Yozak says quietly. “There’s no one here.”

                But I don’t have the time or power to care about that now. Running blindly down the hallways, I grab the first maid I see and demand, “Where’s Wolfram? Where’s Lord von Bielefelt?!”

                The girl looks no older than me and close to tears, but I ignore the guilt pricking away at the back of my mind, squeezing her shoulders until she cries out, “The courtyard! The lords are having a duel in the courtyard…!”

              A duel… I feel as though I’ve been forced to swallow a bucketful of ice. Oh, Wolfram, how could you be so stupid?!

                For the first time ever I’m angry, truly angry at the boy I love more than anything else in both worlds. If he gets hurt, if I find him in any other condition than perfect, I’ll—I’ll—

                All the profanities poised and ready on the tip of my tongue die away the moment I see the blood on the courtyard ground.

                It was so easy to say all those things when I didn’t know, but now that I know for sure that something happened to him, all I can think is, _Oh God, please let him be alive._

                Once, I had joked about the irony of a Demon King believing in God*. But at times like these I still wished I didn’t have to be the Maou, because when you’re really lost, you don’t know who to look to for comfort.

                “Oh, goodness…” Giesela gasps audibly when she catches sight of the blood, and Yozak’s sword is already in his hand. A movement distracts me from my grief—Lord Waltrana von Bielefelt’s expression turned stormy as soon as he recognized me, but he recovers quickly, and now he’s headed our way.

                He’s limping, and there are a few bruises and cuts all over his body. For a tenth of a second I entertain the possibility that the blood on the ground is his, all his, but even I know better than that. In fact, judging by Giesela’s reaction, how deathly pale she has become—

                “Your Majesty, I’m afraid that I’m in no state to welcome you properly--”

                I stare at the beautiful blonde man, so similar to my Wolfram yet so unforgivably different. Yozak had speculated on the reasons behind his attempt at rebellion, and I know now that he was right. This is the man who wanted to start a civil war for his shallow pride. This is the man who challenged his own nephew to a duel. This is the man who hurt the love of my life, who hurt our child…

                The familiar feeling of uncontrollable power rises from deep within me.

                “Your Majesty!”

                A voice I know too well wakes me from my angry haze. Lord Weller, my godfather, the person I trusted and relied on countless times in the past, has never before looked so helpless. His sleeves and shirt are covered with blood that is obviously not his own, and he seems as stunned as I feel. As though we’re still hoping that none of this is real, and all of it is just a really bad nightmare.

                “Your Majesty… Please, help him!”

                “ _Which way?!”_

He takes off at a sprint, and I follow, tight on his heels. More footsteps echo down the hallways behind us, but all I can focus on is the tiny trail of blood on the ground. There isn’t as much here as there was in the courtyard, just the occasional drop to lead the way, but even that tiny bit is enough to taint my entire vision red. So much blood, how could he lose so much blood and still—

                “In here!”

                I push past Conrad, half-crazed, and within a second I’m on my knees beside his bed. One glance at him, and I know the memory will haunt my dreams forever. Back on that trip to Seisakoku, all it had taken was one arrow, one false alarm to make me traumatized of archers to this day*. Back then, Wolfram had taken a shot meant for me, which was in turn meant for Saralegi, and I still remember the way I nearly lost my mind when I saw him go down. The ship was burning down around us, Gunter was still trapped somewhere in those flames, and yet all I had eyes for were the shooter and the man who ordered the shot.

                Then Wolfram had crawled back to his feet, his life saved by Anissina’s book in his jacket, and all of a sudden the world was all right again.*

                “Wolf… _Don’t scare me, Wolf…”_

                So why isn’t he getting up now?

                His skin is deathly pale, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Blood mingles with sweat, soaking the sheets, yet all I can do is to give him my hand and let him squeeze that instead, too scared to touch anything else. Right now, he looks so fragile, like one wrong move will break him beyond repair.

                “Your Majesty, step aside!”

                Never before have I appreciated Giesela the way I do now. She swoops down on us like an angel of mercy, and I quickly make way for her, although I can’t bear to let go of his hand just yet. Immediately she summons her healing magic, her hands glowing as she gently puts them on Wolfram’s stomach and chest. But whatever hope I had harbored disappears the instant her expression crumples.

                “ _You idiot, no!_ ”

_“What is it, Giesela?!”_

Her large brown eyes turn to me, full of fear and fury. “His Highness is using his magic to sustain the child, but at this rate—at this rate--!”

                And suddenly I know why even someone as experienced as Giesela could become so emotional, the same reason why Conrad has gone abruptly still. The blue pendant feels heavy on my chest, a cruel reminder of what happens when someone burns up all of their Maryoku.

                “Then make him stop.” Yozak’s deep baritone is the only voice of reason now, snapping us all back to our senses. “Knock him out.”

                “I can’t…” Giesela calms down just a little, but all the blood has left her pretty face. The Sergeant is nowhere to be found, leaving just a compassionate healer struggling against the unbeatable odds. “If I do, he’ll lose the child!”

                “If he dies, we’ll lose both of them. In fact, it’s a miracle we haven’t already,” Yozak says in an impossibly calm, impossibly cool manner. “If you don’t want His Majesty to become a widower before his honeymoon is even over, _do it now_.”

                Their exchange seems to come from a great distance, as though I’m watching them argue through someone else’s eyes. Nothing feels real anymore, except for the rapidly weakening hand in mine.

                Finally Giesela bites her already white lip and puts her hand over Wolfram’s stomach. There’s no point in just knocking Wolfram out if he subconsciously continues to burn his power, I realize in despair. The best way to make him stop would be to remove the target of his effort. Giesela is going to kill our child.

                Her hand starts glowing… then the magic just fizzles out.

                “It can’t be…”

                There’s something else in her voice suddenly, something akin to wonder. Hope swells up within me, and somehow I find my voice. “What is it, Giesela? Tell me!”

                “The baby…” she whispers. “The baby is fighting back. It’s using its own magic to keep His Highness alive!”

                “That can’t be!” Conrad unfreezes violently. “The child shouldn’t have magic, it shouldn’t have a soul yet--!”

                But whatever else they have to say means nothing to me now. Our child knows what’s going on. He’s helping Wolfram.

                “--The two types of magic are wreaking havoc inside His Highness’ body. If they keep on like this, both of them will--”

                I sigh to myself. It’s stubbornness, pure and simple. I always knew that of Wolfram, but who knew that our child would inherit that trait too…

                I feel this strange urge to laugh, or cry, or both.

                “…Your Majesty!”

                Ignoring Giesela’s protests, I brush away her hands and close my eyes. Yes, I can feel the two life forces warring against each other in Wolfram’s already feeble body. Idiots, both of you… Each of you wants to save the other so badly that you’re risking your life for it, but has either of you thought of me?

                I won’t lose you, neither of you.

                I can’t afford to.

 

“…Come in.”

                I push past the great marble doors into Lord Waltrana von Bielefelt’s office. The nobleman is sitting behind his desk, reading some papers through his glasses, looking as though this morning’s duel never happened.

                “Who’s—Oh, Your Majesty.”

                The nonchalance with which he greets me makes me clench my fist by my side. No, I mustn’t blame him—he didn’t know, no one knew except Wolfram and Giesela and me. He had his aristocratic pride, I understood that. No, maybe I didn’t understand it, but I had always known about it. I’ve been sleeping with one of the proudest aristocrats for years, after all.

                If anything, it was my fault, for not realizing and addressing the problem sooner.

                “Lord von Bielefelt,” I say slowly. There’s no one watching my back here—I ordered all of them to stand guard over Wolfram. He’s tried his best… and now it’s my turn to make sure his efforts pay off. “I heard about the duel this morning, and I’m here in my husband’s place to make good on the deal.”

                The older man’s emerald eyes turn cold, colder than his nephew’s ever were, ever could be. “So you’re taking over his duties, and the von Bielefelt family, after all?”

                “Yes…. And no.” I clear my throat, and pull my fist out of my pocket. In it is the seal that I had taken from Wolfram’s jacket, still warm and slick with his blood. “While Wolfram is unfit for his duties, I shall perform them in his place-- not as king, but as his husband. I have here the seal of the von Bielefelt clan, and I have left my own in his hands.” By his bedside, to be precise. But Conrad promised to hand it to him as soon as he wakes up.

                My fingers tighten around his seal. I just have to trust that he will wake up. That he will come back to me.

                Waltrana’s eyes bore into me, as though trying to gauge my sincerity. The me from a year—no, from a day ago would have quailed under his sharp gaze. But in these past few hours I have gone to hell and back. It’ll take more than a pretty nobleman to intimidate me now--

                “So you’re saying that you’re doing this as my nephew-in-law, and no one else?”

                --even if that pretty nobleman also happens to be my uncle-in-law. My shoulders sag a little. “Yes.”

                “Very well then.” He rises from his seat and bows slightly, gesturing to the high-backed, uncomfortable-looking chair. “As temporary lord of the castle, all the decisions of this household are up to you now.”

                My throat feels suddenly dry. The past few years of kingly training hadn’t been for nothing, I know exactly what he’s trying to do. But I also know that whatever tests he’s planned for me, I can pass them.

                For Wolfram, I have to.

                “What are your first orders, my lord?” Our positions are now reversed, but there’s still something faintly annoying about that smirk of his. He’s waiting to see what my first move will be, so that he can judge for himself whether or not I am worthy. I have to make a good impression, a good choice—

                “Bring me a copy of _the Mazoku Encyclopedia on Healthcare , Intercourse, Reproduction, Related Diseases and their Prospective Cures.”_ I cough slightly. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this story has already surpassed part 1 in kudos... and word count orz Why are the chapters getting steadily longer?!
> 
> I still haven't figured out exactly how many chapter this story is going to have, but I'm guessing around 10? Again, not too many *s in this one, but I'll make up for that in the next :3
> 
> Thanks again for your interest!


	6. All's Well...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we introduce a omniscient(?) spoiled brat and the sky clears after the storm... the first storm of a monsoon season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, 200 hits already?? @.@
> 
> In celebration, an early update and an extra-long chapter (who am I kidding, they're all long... but this one is long enough to make 2 chapters orz) to boot!

“Shibuya…”

                Murata Ken’s fist crumples around the letter he just received via pigeon mail, ignoring Lady Anissina’s protests.  Her attempts to revolutionize the postal system of the Shin Makoku* are admirable, and normally he is one of her biggest supporters, but today he is in no mood for games.

                He knew it, he just knew he should have followed Shibuya on the trip! His best friend just had that tendency to invite trouble wherever he went—who else could have embarked on his honeymoon, only to end up quelling a rebellion and governing a completely foreign territory? The last time Shibuya Yuuri went somewhere without him --via a swimming pool in Murata’s private high school trying to save the vice principal who nearly drowned while practicing his synchronized swimming*-- there had been a rift in the time transition between the two worlds, causing the brother of his friend to consider making the Niagara Falls flow backwards, travel to Switzerland to find a forbidden box and nearly drown poking his head into the alternate world*.

                As for Murata himself… he had had to fly to America, approach people from his past lives, and willingly get himself blown up by a car wreck before he could reach this world again*.

                Not that what awaited him here was any better, but at least this was where Shibuya was*.

                After that he had made Shibuya promise to take him along whenever he travelled between the worlds*—travel by explosion isn’t as cool as it sounds—but it seems that it still isn’t enough. From now on, honeymoon or not, he wasn’t letting his one and only king* out of his sight as long as there is even a hint of danger.

                But there was one more part about that hair-raising journey that he never told anyone, not even Shibuya. Because between being blown out of Earth and landing in the deserts of Seisakoku, he had taken one more stop—through the fireplace and into the third floor of Shinou’s temple*.

                “What do you want from me this time?”

                The Original King looks as sulky as ever, and still wearing what Murata likes to call ‘the Emperor’s New Clothes’. Since he didn’t have a real body, he could only materialize in the outside world by feeding off someone else’s magic. And although Murata knows it must have been amusing to see just his head and arm poking out of a pouch of Wolfram’s magic, or his upper body mysteriously appearing from a basket on Ulrike’s back*, the double-black Japanese schoolboy much preferred to meet his nemesis in a more normal and private manner.

                Murata allows himself a smile without warmth. “Why do you think I’m here to ask something from you?”

                “Because you hate visiting me,” the former king, current apparition complains. “You don’t like people thinking we’re buddies.”

                “We’re not.” Murata Ken isn’t the original Daikenja from 4000 years ago, just a teenage boy cursed with the memories of the previous owners of his soul. All because this pathetic excuse of a man couldn’t accept any factors out of his control, and was too proud to say the words his half-brother wanted to hear so badly*. Because of him, so many different people suffered. They were accused of witchcraft, ostracized by the people around them, and isolating themselves from the rest of world—

                And Murata had to bear the burden of them all.

                Really, could anyone blame him for disliking the man?

                “So what is it?” The handsome face frowns, but it has long since lost any possible appeal to Murata. “It’s about your boy king again, isn’t it? I swear, I didn’t do anything to him this time!”

                “ _This time_ ,” Murata’s tone is approaching subzero temperature as he pushes his glasses up his nose to occupy his hands and prevent himself from socking a ghost in the face. “What other times are there that I don’t know of, hmm?”

                “As if I’m going to tell you… Look, do you want to ask your question or not?”

                Murata sighs. There’s nothing much he can physically do to the first Demon King and founder of the Shin Makoku, even if his loyalty lies only with Shibuya Yuuri and no one else, not even the country*. “The child, Shinou. What did you do to the child?”

                “What child?” the ancient king asks innocently, and Murata has one foot in the fireplace before he stops him. “Okay, okay, I’ll spill, but you gotta promise to stay for tea!”

                “What tea? You don’t eat.”

                “No, but Ulrike does. Her cakes are really good!”

                Murata rubs his temple. Sometimes it is easy to forget who the teenager here is. “Fine. Tell.”

                Too late, he sees the glint of mischief in Shinou’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

                “ _You_ \--”

                “I swear on my soul, I really don’t know!” Shinou holds his hands out in mock surrender. “After all that’s happened, I figured you would never let me elect the next Maou anyway, so I was going to let nature run its course. I’m as surprised as anyone to find out they got a kid, and cross my heart and hope to die, I have no idea where its soul came from!”

                “You never had a heart and you’re already dead.” Murata squeezes the words out through clenched teeth. “I’m warning you, if you ever try anything funny--”

                “Between your boy king and you, I think you can prevent that.” Shinou stifles a yawn. “And I’ll let you in a little secret, so get your shorts out of a knot. I don’t know where it’s from, but even from here I can sense that the child won’t be just any average kid. I can’t do anything even if I wanted to.”

                “Of course no child of Shibuya’s will be simply average,” Murata says, surprised at the pride in his own voice. Still, Shinou’s declaration does ease his worries a bit. Shibuya probably doesn’t know we know yet—I wonder how he plans on announcing it? Heh, maybe if I exaggerate my anger and concern a little, he might make me the kid’s godfather—

                “Your expression is disgusting,” the Original King notes disinterestedly. “And are you staying for tea or not?”

*

_It’s over now. You’re safe. I got you._

_So, please… open your eyes?_

_“Haah!”_ I sit up in bed abruptly, panting for breath. For a moment my mind is blank, and I can’t think of anything else but that kind, quivering voice, that familiar warmth.

                Then everything comes rushing back to me.

                “Conrad!” I untangle myself from the covers, ripping them apart in my haste. “ _Conrad!”_

Footsteps race down the corridor, but I can’t wait. I need to know, _now_ , I want to ask him myself—but when I try to leap off the bed, my knees buckle underneath me, and I’m falling—

                “Wolf!”

                Conrad’s powerful arms catch me before I hit the ground. There’s someone else here, someone else followed him into the room, but I don’t care, all I see is him. Desperately I grab onto his sleeve, using so much force I’m certain my nails are digging through the fabric and breaking his skin.

                “Conrad, the baby— _how’s my baby?!_ ”

                I’m still alive, I feel fine, so does that mean—Have I—

                “Calm down, Your Highness.” It takes me a few seconds to recognize that gentle voice as Giesela’s, and even longer to realize that the glow is her magic, soothing my frazzled nerves. “Feel it for yourself.”

                Instinctively my hand falls to my stomach—

                But is this really my stomach? That’s the first thought that comes to mind. There’s a small bulge that was never there before, small yet unmistakable. And beyond it, I can clearly feel a flighty, fluttering pulse, like a little bird’s heartbeat.

                Tears spring to my eyes, and I blink them away furiously. Giesela’s here too, I can’t show her something so embarrassing—but still, the emotions well up in my chest uncontrollably.

                My baby’s here, my baby’s still alive!

                “But since when…”

                “You’ve been asleep for half a month,” Conrad sighs, while Giesela adds helpfully, “The second trimester is when the development rate is highest.”

                Half a month?! I frown at myself. That was an unforgivably long time for a soldier to be out of action, especially in these trying times.

                “Wolf…” Conrad sounds exasperated, and I notice for the first time how my little big brother looks like he’s aged ten years since the last I saw him. Which isn’t much for a Mazoku, but still. “Whatever it is you’re thinking about, forget it. If I so much as let you leave this bed, His Majesty will set Anissina on me once we get back.”

                “Well then, all you’ll be good for is testing poisons…” I reply on instinct, then I realize what he’s implying. “Yuuri’s here?! Wait, don’t tell him I’m--”

                “Too late.” Lord Welller’s smile is just a little crafty. “You made a real commotion there. I do believe that’s him coming round the corner right now.”

                Swearing loudly in a way that makes Giesela shake her head in disapproval, I dive back into the tattered covers—although since I take care not to make too sudden movements I don’t get there quite as fast as I can. As soon my head hits the pillow the door swings open, and I have to force myself to close my eyes instead of taking a peek.

                “I heard—Is he--?”

                No one says anything, and it takes all my self-control not to open my eyes and see for myself.

                “I… see…”

                He obviously takes the silence as denial, his voice sounding so dejected and crestfallen it makes my heart ache. This half-human husband of mine, the past few weeks must have been even harder on him than it was on my brother. Would he look older too? Could I have done that to him?

                No, I don’t know. But yes, I could.

                I should call off the act now, and spare him anymore unnecessary pain—but suddenly I’m afraid to see him. While I’m still berating myself for being a coward, he shuffles up to my side and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips.

                “Oh, Wolf… How long are you going to keep pretending?”

                And he bites down hard on the back of my hand.

                I yelp in pain, trying to pull away, but his grip is firm, although he’s careful not to draw blood. When he finally loosens up, there’s an ugly purplish-blue bruise standing out against my pale skin. It throbs like hell.

                “That’s punishment, for being an idiot.” He doesn’t let go of my hand, and just when I’m bracing myself for another bite, he brushes his lips against the mark gently instead. “I’d do much worse, but I’m too scared I’ll hurt you.”

                “A wimp like you? Hurt me?” I retort on reflex.

                I wait for his protest, but it doesn’t come. Then I look at him, really look at him, and I realize that he has changed after all. There are bags underneath his eyes, and his gaze is full of pain. I almost don’t recognize the cheerful, sunny teenager I married just four months ago.

                “You should have seen yourself.” His voice is soft. Trembling, just like in my dream. “You looked so weak, so fragile… as though even a gust of wind would shatter you into pieces, and I’d lose you forever.”

                “…Wimp.” I sigh, caressing his face. All of a sudden my hand doesn’t hurt so much anymore. A little physical pain is nothing compared to what I put him through. “I’m sorry I made you worry. But if I had to choose again, you know I won’t go back on my decision.”

                “Because you’re a stubborn idiot.” He doesn’t sound angry though, as he cups his hand over mine. “And our baby just _had_ to inherit that from you.”

                “…Eh?”

                “The child protected you, Your Highness,” Giesela says, kind but firm. “We don’t know why, but it already has a soul. Do you know what that means? Your condition is even more dangerous than we expected, even though the next few trimesters are supposed to be relatively safe you cannot, absolutely cannot--”

                But I stopped listening after the second sentence. “A soul? But how?”

                “You’re asking me?” Yuuri looks incredulous. “I’m still not sure how we got a kid to start with… but I’m learning! Really, I’m reading the book and everything--!”

                “A soul…” My mind is still trying to process that information, with little success. “He protected me? How?”

                “He?” Yuuri echoes just as Giesela explains, “The same way you tried to protect it, Highness.”

                The way I-- It’s as though someone poured ice down my shirt. Now I know why everyone was so worried, and why I slept for so long. Even I know that what I did was a strictly last ditch effort, but to have two souls burning themselves out in the same body…

                My hand presses against my stomach, to assure myself that he’s still there. “How did you stop me… us?”

                “I didn’t,” Giesela shakes her hand with a smile. “His Majesty did.”

                “Yuuri?” I turn to look at him suspiciously, and his face falls.

                “Hey, don’t look so disbelieving… although I can’t really believe it myself…”

                But then I smile. “You know, when I was sleeping, I swear I heard this voice... A wimpy, warm voice that sounded like he was going to cry.”

                Instead of denying it like I thought he would, he just holds my hand tighter, his eyes unnaturally bright. “And you know it. So unless you want your king to embarrass himself in front of all his people, don’t ever try that, _ever_ again.”

                Oh, Yuuri… He was never the strongest, or the smartest, and yes, he was a bit of a crybaby. He cried that day after our duel when he saw the village burn, he cried when that human boy was shot, he even cried when Greta left for her studies (to his credit, so did I… she’s our daughter after all!)* But I don’t think I’ve seen him cry when things really got tough for him. Not after Conrad lost his arm, not in Seisakoku. When times got hardest, that was when he never lets himself break.

                Besides, he’s grown stronger too lately—he definitely is not crying as often. And yet, for me…

                “As your husband, your reputation is directly connected to mine.” I try to sound calm, but my voice comes out a little gruff. “So don’t worry, I’ll try not to do anything that might cause you to embarrass both of us.”

                “What do you mean, _‘try’_?” Giesela interrupts sternly. “I don’t think Your Highness fully understands the gravity of your situation yet. Do you know why a soul usually enters an unborn child during the last trimester, or just before birth? Because that’s when its life is the most vulnerable, and it wants to reduce the risk to itself as much as possible. If the child dies before it is born, the soul will suffer a great deal of damage, so much so that it might not be able to reincarnate properly.”

                Her eyes turn to my little bump. “It believes in you, Your Highness. That’s why it was willing to sacrifice itself for you, and is now risking so much to stay with you.”

                “She’s right, Wolf,” Yuuri adds quietly before I can say anything. “When I touched you, I felt it respond to me. Just like you, it calmed down. That’s why I was able to stop and sort out both of your Maryoku so easily.”

                I see… My expression melts a little at that. So you recognize us, don’t you? You’ve recognized both of us as your parents.

                And all of a sudden I can’t wait to get back home, so I can introduce this new member of our family to his sister, his other uncle, and his grandmother. I just can’t figure out who will be happiest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Murata's relationship with Shinou is nothing like what it seems in the anime... That's why that pairing is actually one of my pet peeves :/
> 
> Shinou was just introduced in the books before the hiatus started, so yes, I'm taking a few liberties with his character and the way the story may or may not progress afterwards. I'll try to keep the prediction-like allusions as vague as possible to prevent jossing, but considering the way the novelist likes to mess with her characters I think I've probably been jossed already T^T
> 
> Also, a special thanks to Red Glasses Girl for helping me verify some important information!


	7. Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny to say this, since you've never been here before, but I think everyone feels the same way, so I'll say it for all of them:
> 
> Welcome home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a period of (relative) peace~

“Look, it’s the capital!” Yuuri says excitedly, poking his head out of the carriage window. “Uwaaaa, it’s so good to be home!”

                “Hey, what does that mean? Are you implying that my home isn’t home enough to you?”

                “Err…”

                The look of guilt on Yuuri’s expression lasts for only a second before I burst out laughing.

                “I’m just kidding, wimp. After all that’s happened, I don’t feel like going back anytime soon either.”

                We had stayed there for another half a month before Giesela declared me fit for travelling. In those two weeks, I had stayed in bed, generally enjoying life while my husband and king ran up, down and around like a headless chicken, managing the territory. Gwendal did send a messenger asking if he needed assistance, but Yuuri was adamant in refusing. After all, he was doing this as my spouse, not as the 27th Demon King.

                In the end, Lord Weller had to bring out his position as Yuuri’s brother-in-law and godfather before the stubborn wimp would let him help.

                “…Thanks for your hard work.”

                “Eh?” Yuuri’s eyes widen as I reach over to touch his hair, looking for the white strands I thought I saw in the sunlight. “Wolf, are you okay? Why are you suddenly talking like a normal Japanese person?! Wait, let me call Gi--”

                “I’m fine!” I snap. Geez, doesn’t he know how to be romantic? “And—and isn’t that what you always say?”

                Realization dawns on his face. “So that’s what they mean by spouses catching each other’s habits…” A muscle twitches underneath his eye. “Wolf, if I ever ask you for one of your nightdresses, you can punch me until I come back to my senses.”

                I roll my eyes and turn away, trying hard to stop my lips from curving skywards. To be honest, I’m probably every bit as relieved as he is to be coming back to Covenant Castle. Life doing nothing was infuriating, and every night Yuuri came back to bed looking even more tired than before. I couldn’t even try to comfort him, because if I did he would nag me for sleeping so late, or blame himself for waking me up.

                If Gunter hadn’t sent him a tearful letter begging him to come back, I don’t know how long the foolish young king would have stayed there, trying to keep the weight off my shoulders and impress his uncle-in-law at the same time. Thinking of Uncle Waltrana’s expression when we announced that we were leaving, and that he was to manage the lands in my place, I have to clap my hands over my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud. It wasn’t only Yuuri, even Conrad had expressly forbidden him from seeing me until the day of our departure, as though they were scared he might try something as stupid as revenge.

                Which just proves how little they know him. My uncle is anything but stupid. That’s why all the blood drained out of his face when he finally saw me again, because he understood immediately the position he was in.

                Attempted murder of a royal heir. Even the Ten Noblemen can’t get away from something like that. With that hanging over his head, I can be sure that my dear uncle will stay his hand at least for a few more years.

                Of course, now that both my baby and I are safe and sound, Yuuri won’t even dream of pressing charges. That’s just the way my husband is. He’s no saint, he gets angry too. Push him too hard, and even he can hate, or seek vengeance. That time when I was shot, he confessed to me one night, he had felt a rage like he had never felt before. We were in human territory, and he hadn’t yet learned how to use his powers on his own, but that time, he said, he didn’t need any voice in his head to spur him on. When Maxine had appeared, demanding to know why I was the one down, he described it like an explosion in his mind. He would never forget that face. He would never forgive him until the day he died. *

                But then, he sighed as he fell back onto his pillow beside me, I had gotten up, and he quite forgot about Maxine altogether. In fact, he sort of felt sorry for the guy now. It was never easy being on the receiving end of one of Anissina’s poisons, even if it’s one of the relatively harmless ones—in the sense that it brainwashes the victim into thinking he’s a baby bird, and to recognize the first person he sees upon ‘hatching’ as his father*.

                “Guess I’m a wimp, after all,” was his conclusion. But that’s the way he is. As long as you don’t do any real harm, he’s willing to fix your mess and forgive your mistakes.

                But Uncle Waltrana doesn’t have to know that, does he?

                I won’t lie, it exasperates me sometimes, the way he’s so easy to forgive. But maybe that’s why he can live life easier than the rest of us. Looking at the way his eyes shine with anticipation, it seems as though all the weariness from before is already falling off of him, and the past month never happened.

                “If you’re so eager to get there,” I suggest, “we can always just grab a horse and--”

                “No!” His reply is surprisingly prompt and full of authority. “Wolf, don’t you remember what Giesela said? You’re not riding until the baby is born!”

                Oh, yeah… Now I feel like a headache’s coming on. You can’t blame me for forgetting, Gisela’s list of do’s and don’ts (mostly don’ts) was even longer than Gunter’s speeches—like father like daughter, perhaps. After she was done reciting the last item (‘No walking or standing for more than ten minutes at once’), I had buried my face and groaned if I should just stay in bed for the next eight months.

                She looked extremely tempted to say yes, but finally she sighed and said it was too much trouble and impractical to fuse a bed with a toilet.

                If I didn’t already know how bad her rivalry with Anissina is*, I would have begged her to never mention anything like that, _ever_ , in front of the Poison Lady.

                The carriage finally pulls over, and I smile as Yuuri jumps down without waiting for the footman. But instead of dashing inside, he turns around and offers me his hand, his expression full of gentleness…

                “ _Your Majesty~~~”_

When he is pounced into the ground by a flash of silver, all I can think is, _Phew. That was close._

                “Papa--!” Greta comes just a bit later than Lord von Christ, and pouts adorably at Lord von Christ when she can’t find any part of her father to hug. Then she sees me, carefully stepping down from the carriage. “Daddy!”

                I brace myself, but when she doesn’t lunge at me I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Instead she takes a step back and gives me a little curtsy, her eyes wide with wonder.

                “Daddy… Is it true? Is that my little brother or sister?”

                I nod, smiling at the pure happiness that blooms across her pretty face.

                “Can I hug him or her? Please? And you too, of course.”

                My daughter added me on as an afterthought… I sigh inwardly, holding out my arms anyway. She approaches me almost shyly, and wraps her arms around my waist cautiously, gently. She’s taller now, her head level with my chest, so she has to bend down to place her ear on my belly. One month ago, even I couldn’t tell there was anything there. But presently her face lights up as she hears the steady beating of the little heart, beaming so brightly it melts my petty bitterness in an instant.

                “I’ll be a good big sister,” she says softly, though whether she’s talking to me, to herself or to the baby I can’t tell. “And don’t worry, Daddy, I won’t get jealous if you love the baby more, or if you want to make him or her Heir instead.”

                “Greta…!”

                “I’m grown-up now, Daddy. I know what the people are saying.” She pauses, but when she looks up at me her expression is calm. “They’re saying a human princess can’t inherit the throne, so they’re glad that there’s going to be a baby, but they’re worried about how I’ll feel. They’re really nice, Daddy, for worrying about me, so don’t be mad at them! I just wanted to say… that I’m really glad too… and I understand if… if…”

                “Oh, Greta…” I press her head to my chest and let her sob into my shirt. “Silly girl, you’re overthinking things again. No matter how many more children we have, you will always be our princess, our amazing oldest daughter, and their wonderful big sister.”

                As for the position of Royal Heir… It’s actually more of a formality than anything, a sort of insurance in case the current king dies suddenly, to prevent any civil uprisings. If all goes well—and it will, my brothers and I will make sure of that-- Yuuri will rule for a few more centuries, then pass the throne peacefully on to the chosen representative from another clan.

                Come to think of it, the von Bielefelt family has not had a Maou for quite a while… Maybe that’s why Uncle Waltrana was so unhappy.

                “Wolf’s right.” At some point in time Yuuri must have escaped from Gunter’s evil grasp, because suddenly he’s wrapping his arms around the both of us—no, the three of us. It is getting a little warm, and slightly stuffy, but to be honest I couldn’t care less. This is my family, my small but growing family.

                “Oh, _Wolfie~!”_

I smile as Yuuri stiffens, then quickly places himself between me and my overenthusiastic mother. Gwendal is trying to hold her back, his gaze at me complicated, and Conrad rushes over to lend him a hand. Somewhere in the distance Giesela is lecturing her father about violent displays of affection around a very sensitive patient, while Yozak saunters lazily to stand guard by his king, giving me a wink when he catches me looking.

                Yup, this is my family. It’s actually already pretty big, but—I rub my stomach fondly—I don’t mind it getting bigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the comedy element is back... slightly...
> 
> Also, another pet peeve I have of most KKM mpreg/future fics. The term Royal Heir seems to get tossed around a lot (and Greta is always conveniently forgotten), and yes, while the former princes do receive respect as royalty, I get the feeling that they're not usually expected to succeed the throne. The reason Gwen and Wolfram had a shot at it wasn't because they were princes, but because they were outstanding members of their respective clans. Nothing much is specified (I think) but a list of the previous few generations of Maou before the 25th seem to alternate within the Ten Noble Families. 
> 
> 27th is Yuuri, of course, 26th was Celi, and 25th... is now Celi's servant and advent admirer, though she doesn't seem to know it :3


	8. For that Special Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you can hurt someone simply by being too important to them.
> 
> So even if I'm not the most important person in his life, I'll take it upon myself to make sure his most important person doesn't come to any harm.
> 
> Because he is the most important person in mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not Yuuri/Murata... The summary just came out misleading, don't ask me why...

…Why did I ever agree to come back here?

                I sit up in bed, arms crossed and fingers tapping impatiently on my elbow. It’s been an hour and Giesela still hasn’t finished briefing the maids. As a born-and-bred member of nobility, even royalty, I’m used to having people serve me. They had to do something for a living, didn’t they? When their numbers decreased the older I got, and after I lost my status as youngest son of the Maou, I can’t say I was particularly glad, but I definitely wasn’t upset either.

                So will someone tell me why, after reaching my eighth decade of life and approaching my ninth, I suddenly have three times as many servants as I ever did?!

                “You’re still too young to have a child,” Gwendal repeats for the twenty-first time. “You should have waited until you’re at least a hundred…”

                As if I had a choice in the matter. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him. Just yesterday, Yuuri had said something about ‘teenage pregnancies’ and how he couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into one.

                _“Eighty-five and pregnant… doesn’t sound as catchy…”_

Then I made the mistake of reminding him that in human years, I would be 17 years old, even younger than him. He had gone unnaturally pale, swallowing hard and mumbling something about ‘statutory rape’, ‘obscenity ordinances’ and ‘not a girl’.

                That last one caught my attention. “Shibuya Yuuri, if you’re telling me that after all that’s happened, you’re still wishing you married a girl--”

                For some reason, my already flighty husband gets even more easily intimidated these days. He hastened to explain that in his country in the other world, boys can only get married after they turn 18, but girls can once they reach 16.

               “Don’t tell Anissina that,” was my first reply. My next was what I’m repeating to my dear, dotty oldest brother now. “We Mazoku are supposed to come of age once we turn sixteen, brother. Be it in Mazoku years or human years, I am more than old enough to marry, and bear a child. And besides, many women have had children when they were much younger.”

                Lord von Voltaire’s frown deepens further, but I’ve long ago given up trying to convince him out of it. “That’s women, they’re more meant for… this kind of thing.”

                “Don’t tell--” But my words die abruptly in my throat.

                “There you are, Gwendal!” Anissina stands in the doorway, hands on her hips. “And Your Highness, too!”

                It’s still weird hearing people call me Highness again, especially when my brothers do it too.  Once, all three of us had to be addressed that way-- but now it’s only me.

                “Lady von Karbelnikoff.” Giesela greets the Poison Lady rather reluctantly, and the resident mad scientist nods her head curtly in reply.

                “Now, Your Highness, allow me to--”

                Gwendal finally finds his voice again, and in an explosive moment he’s at the door, barring her from entering the room. “Don’t you have other experiments you need me for? Come, while His Majesty is dealing with the paperwork, I’ll help you--”

                Is it just me, or is he using his body to block me from Anissina’s view? Soon enough he has bundled her out and closed the door behind him, though not before giving Giesela a Look.

                Giesela sighs. “You have to thank Lord von Voltaire for his sacrifice later, Your Highness. Standby team, did you get that? Never let Lady von Karbelnikoff into His Highness’ room without supervision. The guards outside might not be able to stop her, so it’s all up to you!”

                “Yes, ma’am!”

                This is all getting rather ridiculous… Does she really think that Anissina would hurt me? Her experiments could be dangerous, but they never put any innocent bystanders in harm’s way… I think. And why do the maids have this burning fire in their eyes, like soldiers going to war?

                “Everyone knows about what happened in the von Bielefelt castle, Your Highness.” Giesela’s voice is low but somehow still threatening, speaking as though she read my mind. “Do not underestimate a woman’s maternal instinct. These brave girls--” she raises her voice suddenly, sounding even more like a drill sergeant, “—will risk their lives to protect His Highness and his child from harm, won’t you?!”

                “Yes, ma’am!”

                “I can’t hear you! Standby team!”

                “Present, ma’am!”

                “Good! Nutrition team!”

                “Here, ma’am!”

                “Hygiene team!”

                “Gladly, ma’am!”

                “Medicine team!”

                --I bury my face into my knees.

 

“That’s some stringent security you got there.” The only other double-black currently alive in the country enters my room quietly.

                “You don’t say.” I gladly close my copy of _The_ _Poison Lady Anissina Side Story: Poison Lady Anissina and the Sumo Step ~Now the Strongest After Learning a Foreign World’s Fighting Technique~*._ I always liked Anissina’s books, but after rereading it for the fifth time even the Poison Lady’s blood-pumping words were getting repetitive. “Don’t tell me those maids even tried to screen the Great Sage?”

                “They pulled my hair to make sure I wasn’t wearing a wig,” Murata Ken says casually. “And stared into my eyes until I teared up to prove that I wasn’t using contacts. I never expected my first time looking deeply into a lady’s eyes to be so decidedly unromantic.”

                “If you don’t like it, bring it up with Yuuri.” If he orders them away as king, not even Giesela will be able to do anything about it. Problem is, he seems to be the strongest voice in favor of keeping me under constant surveillance. “Seriously… Do they think Big Shimaron will send assassins after me or something?”

                “You really don’t understand, do you? My dear Lord von Bielefelt.”

                Something about his tone put me instantly on alert, but the light bounces off his glasses in a way that hides his black eyes. “What do you mean, Your Eminence?”

                “If they’re really worried about an outside danger, they would have positioned soldiers here, not maids.” He sighs deeply, and somehow the sound sparks a sudden anger in me. “The danger they’re worried about is you, Your Highness.”

                For some reason, the title sounds even more grating coming from him. “I assure you that I can take care of myself, Your _Eminence_. And even if I can’t,” the words escape before I can stop myself, “it will not be any of your concern.”

                “None of my concern, huh…?” He tilts his head, and all of a sudden I’m looking straight into his eyes, the same color as Yuuri’s, yet so absurdly different. If Yuuri’s black is warm and honest, Murata Ken’s is cold, merciless, and utterly bottomless. “It is very much my concern, Lord von Bielefelt, because Yuuri is my best friend, and I have a duty to watch over him, keeping him out of harm’s way.”

                I frown. “I would never--”

                But he holds out a hand to silence me. “Did you see his expression when he found out you were hurt? Do you know the pain that he had to go through?”

                “No, but neither did--”

                “I wasn’t there,” he says calmly, “but I felt it. We’re connected, Wolfram. You know I exist solely to support him*. He must have told you that we swapped bodies before, and we even shared a dream*. In other words, we’re on nearly the same wavelength.” He pauses. “And even if you don’t believe that, then would you believe it if I say that yesterday after you fell asleep, he came to my room because he had a nightmare?”

                My mouth had gone suddenly dry, but if he noticed he doesn’t show it.

                “In his nightmare, you were in great danger, and he actually thought you would die. But you told him you couldn’t, just because he hasn’t married you yet*.” The young Sage smiles, but there is no warmth in it. “Sounds perfectly normal, doesn’t it? But because of such a simple dream, he comes to me in a cold sweat, shivering in fear.”

                “Stop…”

                “’It’s real,’ he says. ‘I know it happened, I just forgot until now.’”

                “I said, stop…”

                “I’ve never seen him so scared. ‘What if it’s my fault?’ he asks me. ‘What if Wolf dies, just because I married him? I should never have—‘”

                “ _Stop!”_

I fling my pillow at him, panting for breath, but it just bounces off his face harmlessly.

                “You shouldn’t get so agitated,” he says, still infuriatingly calm. “It’s bad for the baby.”

                “Don’t tell me what’s good for my own baby,” I growl. “What’s your point? Why are you saying all this, what are you trying to tell me?”

                He adjusts his glasses, hiding his eyes again. Yuuri was right, people who don’t wear glasses really can’t predict the way they work*. “Shibuya tells me everything, Lord von Bielefelt. Like how on the day before your wedding, everyone warned him not to hurt you. Your mother, Lord von Voltaire, even his own godfather. He told me that he was glad to see how much they care about you, but he was also kind of sad that they didn’t trust him. They didn’t trust him to love and protect you.”

                “That’s ridiculous, he--”

                “He just needs someone to tell that to you,” Murata interrupts me. Finally there is emotion in those black eyes, roiling around like waves. “I’ll be that someone. Lord von Bielefelt, if you ever hurt Shibuya, I’ll never forgive you. I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the worlds, and I’ll tie you to his side if I must. Because if anything happens to you, especially now…”

                He clenches his fist until his knuckles turn white. “…I don’t know if he can take it.”

                There’s truth in his words, I know that too well. So I keep silent, giving him time to collect himself. And then suddenly—

                “Ow!”

                “—Wolfram? What’s the matter?”

                Suddenly the wise sage is gone, and he turns into just another eighteen year old boy, worried for his best friend’s husband.

                It was sudden, but not so much painful as surprising. I put my hand to my stomach—I swear, it’s a little bigger than it was yesterday—and then I realize what it was.

                “I think… I think he kicked me!”

                Murata blinks at the joy in my voice. “He…? How do you--?”

                “I just do,” I wave him off nonchalantly. Funny that he would be the first one to ask. “But is it too soon? Maybe I should ask Giesela…”

                I raise my head to look at him, and find myself staring. The Great Sage looks so lost, as awkward as any teenage boy would when faced with a pregnant man talking about his baby. In spite of myself, I have to smile a little at that. Then I sigh theatrically.

                “I know, I know. He’s angry at me, isn’t he? For bullying his godfather.”

                “…Eh?”

                “Didn’t Yuuri tell you?” I know I shouldn’t sound haughty when I say it, but the thought that I know something this person doesn’t is extremely gratifying. “We’re making you his godfather. So you better come up with a good name, because his future is in your hands here.” I smile. “Godfather.”

                “God…father…” He repeats the word as though he can’t understand it. Funny how even the smartest people can be so dumb sometimes.

                “That’s right.” I fold my hands over my belly fondly. This child really is exceptionally bright. “So you can rest easy, I’ll take good care of your godson for you. For all of us.”

               It’s almost time for her daily visit now, so I’m fairly sure Giesela is outside listening. She’ll come in any moment now, and hold my words against me, so I can never protest against her strict regime again.

                But looking at the way the Great Sage’s face melts into a pool of gentleness, I decide it’s worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 300 views, yayy~ *pops champagne*
> 
> Two chapters to the next climax, and yes, this story is ending up much longer than I thought it would T^T Not only are the chapters longer, there are more of them, and I can't yet decide how many... 
> 
> A lot of small *s here, some from the side stories so they might seem a bit out of place. They're all pretty self-explanatory, but if you need any elaboration or details, just leave a comment below, and I'll be sure to get back to you xD


	9. What You Are To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wolfram has an existentialist crisis and a maid remains unnamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because seriously, I'm pretty sure there was a maid named earlier on in the novels... I just don't remember where...

“Ow!”

                Yuuri gets up, rubbing his eyes. “Wolf? You okay?”

                What do you think? I bite my tongue and glare at my baby bump, resisting the urge to knock some sense into my unborn child.

                “Looks like he inherited your sleeping habits too,” Yuuri laughs.

                I turn my glare onto my husband. “Hey, I’m a much better sleeper now!”

                “You are,” he agrees easily. “But it took you eighty-four years to get there. Cut the kid some slack, he’s a perfect angel in the day, isn’t he?”

                There’s no denying that. It’s almost uncanny how well-behaved the baby is during daytime, even though I’m well into my third trimester, the time when the fetus is the most active. That’s also when it’s supposed to reach the peak of its growth, but…

                I crawl carefully out of bed and head to the closet. There aren’t nearly as many maternity clothes as Mother had warned there would be, though as I grab the worn measuring tape from the hangers I’m not sure if I’m particularly glad about that…

                There’s no difference from yesterday. I sigh audibly just as Yuuri wraps his arms around my not-so-large waist.

                “Every time you sigh, you lose three minutes of your life, you know.”

                Oh, was that it? “That’s not a lot to us Mazoku.”

                “I didn’t mean it literally, I just—Never mind. Anyway, just think about it. If he were any bigger, his kicks would probably hurt a lot more.”

               “It’s not something to joke about,” I frown slightly. “Nothing about this pregnancy is normal, Yuuri, and you know it. What if he’s born prematurely, or--”

                My words trail off, but my hand tightens around my stomach. I knew it, it’s because of what I did when I first found out, isn’t it…? If my rash actions back then will affect my child’s life forever…

               “You’re thinking too much again.” My husband kisses the back of my neck, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. “Giesela says he’s perfectly healthy, just a little on the small side. It happens, you don’t have to worry about it.”

                “…You said ‘he’.” I can’t stop worrying just because he tells me to, but I can change the subject. “What makes you so sure it’s a boy?”

                “I’m not,” he says, innocently surprised. “But you think he’s a boy, and I believe you. After all,” he muzzles his nose into my hair, “Mommy knows best.”

                “Mo--” My face twitches a little. While it is true that in the Shin Makoku, ‘mother’ is used to refer to the one who bears the child, regardless of gender, it’s still jarring to hear myself called that. I guess I just never expected to be that person. Even after nine months, I still wake up sometimes wondering if this is really happening.

                Less so since he started waking me up with his kicks, though.

                “Just a few more months--”

                “--And then we’ll be married for a full year,” I tease him. “Now that I’m fat and ugly, do you think you’ll still love me as much then?”

                “Fat? Ugly? Who are we talking about here?”

                Has it really only been a year? No, it’s not even a year yet. One year ago today, we were still oblivious to each other’s feelings. Who could’ve possibly guessed we’d be where we are now? I sure didn’t.

                I almost feel sorry for the me of one year ago. He had no idea what he was missing.

 

“—And the Poison Lady’s shoe lands squarely on the sumo wrestler’s shiny bald head, marking yet another conquest for womankind.”

                Greta finishes the book with a flourish, eyes shining. Anyone could see that she idolizes Anissina, and honestly, I kinda do too. Still, I was as relieved as everybody else when she finally decided her path was not to become the new Poison Lady or Sergeant—

                --Even if I’m not too sure ‘Trap Lady’ is that much better*.

                “Princess, it’s time for your lessons,” the maid on duty reminds my daughter kindly, and I try my best not to hold a grudge against her. She’s the one who watches over my afternoons, so she should know very well by now how the boredom nearly drives me insane whenever Greta isn’t here.

                “Aww, do I have to?” My adorable human daughter bites her lip. “I wanna stay with Daddy for a while longer… Then, can he walk me back to my room? It’s not that far, and he hasn’t gotten his daily walk yet?”

                I know you mean well, Greta, but when you put it like that, you make me sound like one of Gwendal’s puppies…

                The maid hesitates, but no one can resist Greta’s pleading gaze. Finally she smiles, “Okay, but His Highness has to promise to come back immediately.”

                I nod reluctantly, noting the irony that even a maid can order me around now with the Sergeant’s authority behind her. No, don’t be so mean, you know they mean well…

                It has almost been a year, but I still don’t like the way people are calling me ‘Your Highness’ again. In fact, since the only other member of the royalty for now is Greta, ‘His Highness’ expressly refers to me now, so the people speaking don’t even bother to tack on my name at the back.

                That’s just another reason to look forward to this little one’s birth.

                Greta gives me another hug when we reach her door, and tries to close it as slowly as possible so we don’t have to break eye contact.  But even my thirteen-year-old daughter has her duties and responsibilities, and it would be selfish of me to delay her any longer. Finally her tutor loses his patience, and we mouth silent good-byes to each other before the door slams shut between us.

                I sigh. During the afternoon, the whole castle is a hive of activity, and I’m the only person with absolutely nothing to do. In fact, the daily workings of the place don’t seem to have changed much with me out of action. I purse my lips, feeling distinctly dissatisfied.

                Negative emotions are bad for the baby, Giesela is always saying, but to be honest, I already have it much better than most people when pregnant. It had taken six whole months of Yuuri walking on eggshells around me before I finally lost my temper and noticed it, though.

                “…Why are you being even wimpier than usual?! Acting as if I’m going to bite your head off over the smallest thing, am I really that kind of person to you?!”

                He had actually heaved a sigh of relief.

                “Thank goodness... Go on, keep scolding me. You shouldn’t keep your feelings pent up, and there’s no point fighting against the hormones when they’re this out of whack--”

                Oh, yeah. Pregnant people were supposed to have mood swings.

                “Oh, and if you ever have a sudden craving for jellyfish stew*, just tell me, I know I got the recipe somewhere around here--”

                Or maybe my husband is the one who’s hormonal?

                The obvious lack of cravings and mood swings is just the tip of the iceberg, though. Once I started paying attention, I realize that aside from the morning sickness I had before I even found out, I have somehow escaped all the aches and pains that usually plague pregnancy. I’ve only gained a little necessary weight that comes with carrying a new life around in my body, my ankles look fine, and my bladder has never once bothered me.

                “It’s a good thing,” Giesela emphasized repeatedly and strongly. “Perfectly normal. Some people just have it easier than others. So Your Majesty, you really don’t have to worry, and you _definitely_ do _not_ need to ask for an Earth expert’s opinion.

                I understand that Yuuri was just concerned about me and the baby, but really, even I knew that his suggestion was a little insensitive.

                In conclusion, I feel unexpectedly wonderful for someone in their third trimester, approaching their fourth. I even feel as though I can pick up my morning training again, though I wisely keep that opinion to myself. It wasn’t easy, getting them to ease up on my surveillance, and I wasn’t going to lose that precious bit of freedom over—

                “—Lord von Voltaire forgot his lunch again?”

                I duck behind a suit of armor as some soldiers’ voices come floating down the hallway.

                “He always works hard, but recently I heard that he’s even skipping his meal and break times to work. Now that His Majesty is back and doing his part well, you’d think that Lord von Voltaire would--”

                I bite my lip, debating the pros and cons of showing myself. I know that what they’re saying is true, but there’s just one mistake—

                “—but ever since His Highness came back pregnant, he’s been especially stressed—Y-Your Highness?!”

                “Yarn,” I jump out of my hiding spot and interrupt the soldier brusquely. “Get Lord von Voltaire some yarn and he’ll take a break from work.”

                Because to my brother, breaks from work just mean time to knit. No matter how busy he is, he’ll take some time for his passion, and the only time he doesn’t is when he’s run out of material.

                “Y-yes!”

                “And don’t tell anyone I was here.” My eyes narrow dangerously. “Or else.”

                I don’t know what ‘else’ is, but I’m sure I can come up with something if situation calls for it.

 

It’s already been more than ten minutes, and I should be back in bed.

                But something those soldiers said piqued my interest, and my feet automatically direct me towards Yuuri’s office.

                “—should rest.”

                Now, why does that sound familiar?

                “I’m fine, Conrad.” I can’t see my husband from behind the door, but I can hear all too clearly the barely disguised weariness in his voice. “Besides, Gwedal and Gunter are already doing so much. This is the least I can do.”

                Lord von Christ, too?

                “And what about you, godfather? If I recall correctly, you had a mission out in the countryside with Yozak last night, didn’t you?”

                “Oh, a night or two without sleep is nothing to a soldier,” says the man who reminds me every time we meet to get at least eight hours of rest every day. “And besides, I rarely have anything to do whenever Your Majesty isn’t around*, so it’s only fair that I put in my share of work when I can.”

                So I’m the only one lazing around?

                “Everyone’s working hard, huh?”

                Yuuri’s words follow me like an accusation all the way back to our room.

 

“Your Highness.”

                The maid greets me, relief evident in her voice, as soon as I open the door. I nod in reply, surprised that Giesela isn’t waiting for me with crossed arms, and emergency sirens aren’t ringing through the castle.

                “Why?” Why didn’t you rat out on me?

                She smiles shyly in understanding. “Because I trust you, Your Highness.”

                “Stop calling me that!”

                I want so badly to just flop facedown into the pillows, but obviously I can’t. Grumbling to myself, I carefully take off my shoes, then my socks, lifting first one leg onto the bed, then the other, all the while supporting my stomach with one hand.

                “…Your Highness loves the child a lot, don’t you?”

                “Naturally.” The gentleness in her voice melts my frustration slightly. “But what’s with the sudden observation?”

                “Because everyone’s worried. You might not know this, Your Highness, but the country is facing some difficulties now…”

                I start to self-censor the title out of her words, but the rest of it makes me frown anyway. I know that things aren’t going so well out there, and if it were any other time Yuuri would be the first to rush to the scene.

                But he can’t, because of me.

               “…and during these trying times, Your Highness and the baby keeps us spirited, and hopeful.” She laughs to herself, a pleasant sound that lifts my mood. “I’ll let Your Highness in on a secret—we servants have started a new sweepstake! After the ‘Who Will Win His Majesty’s Affections’ event*—which of course, Your Highness won--”

                The actual winning option was ‘Lord von Bielefelt will forcefully have his way with His Majesty’, but it’s best if Yuuri doesn’t know that.

                “—the new event has options like ‘His Highness will safely give birth to a boy’, ‘His Highness will safely give birth to a girl’, ‘His Highness will safely give birth to twins’…”

                I see. All of them are wishing for my—no, our health and safety.

                “…and then there are those betting that the child will have black hair or blonde hair, black eyes or green eyes, or a mix of both…”

                How does that work? my mind asks. But my mouth says,

                “Can I make a wager too?”

 

That night, Yuuri comes to bed early.

                “I got my work done especially fast today,” he says proudly as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “So that I can catch you before you sleep.”

                Actually, I’m always awake when you come in. But I really am genuinely happy that for once, we get to spend some time together without me having to feign sleep.

                “Oh, and before I forget.” Yuuri fumbles inside his pockets and pulls out a pair of tiny, crumpled knitted socks. “The picture on top, I think it’s supposed to be a hippo, but he said it’s a rabbit—What do you think?”

                “Brother…” To my horror, tears begin to well up in my eyes. I rub them away furiously, while Yuuri pats my back, looking rather superior.

                “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Gwen how happy you are to receive them—although, I think he planned to make a full suit with the new ball of yarn he got anyway. Conrad says he’s been practicing, but considering it’s his first time making something for a Mazoku baby, I’d say it came out looking pretty good.”

                He pauses, and his smile is so full of love I almost have to look away. “But then again, he is making them for his nephew. Of course he’d want to make them as perfect as he can.”

                “Yuuri…” The feelings I’ve kept hidden all day start spilling out as I lean my head onto his chest. His once scrawny body has filled out considerably over the years, even if he himself doesn’t notice it, enough to give me a sense of safety unlike any other. “I’m… not much use around here, am I? Even before all this, all I ever did was follow you around on your games*. Compared to Brother, or Conrad, or Gunter, I’ve never been much help…”

                For a moment he looks taken aback, and then he chuckles, “Now _that’s_ the hormones talking.”

                “Hey! I’m being serious here! And look at me when I’m talking, wimp!”

                Because he has closed his eyes, one arm around me and the other hand softly cupping my stomach. “And _that’s_ my proud Wolf. Really, Wolf, you never asked that question before, so why now?”

                “Why?” I echo. “What do you mean why? Because while everyone is out there fighting their own battles, I’m here hiding behind the covers like a coward!”

                Yuuri opens his eyes, and I’m struck all over again by how black they are, how deep they can be. “Who do you think we’re fighting for, Wolf? And ask any one of them, I’m sure they’ll tell you that you’re the bravest of us all.” He presses his face gently against my stomach. “At least, I know I don’t have the guts to do what you’re doing.”

                I frown. “But this--”

                “Don’t even try to downplay it, Wolf. You know what my mother always says, ‘There is nothing as sacred and as admirable as the way a mother gives life’. And besides--” he continues before I can interrupt him, “—you have a duty to me, and it hasn’t changed.”

                “I do?”

                “Of course,” he laughs, muzzling my belly. I feel the baby move a little in response, and he’s so absorbed by it that he clean forgets what he meant to say until I clear my throat to remind him. “Oh, yeah… As I was saying, just as Lord von Voltaire’s role is to help me run the country, Gunter’s is to teach me the relevant knowledge, and Conrad’s is to train me up, your job is--”

                The baby kicks me, as though feeling the same impatience I feel at his father’s long-windedness. I open my mouth to scold Yuuri, but before the words can leave my tongue they’re swallowed up his sudden, gentle kiss.

                “Can’t you see? You are, and have always been, my motivation. Back when we first met, even when I didn’t realize it, I did so many things to earn your approval, and to impress you. Every time you scolded me, or called me a wimp, I wanted to do something worthwhile, to prove you wrong. And whenever I hesitated…” He picks up my hand and kisses my palm. “You’ll take my hand and drag me along with you, forcing me to make a choice. Because I never could leave you alone, could I?”

                Yuuri… I meet his lips with mine, telling him with actions what I couldn’t bring myself to say in words.

                Heh, it seems that sometime when I wasn’t looking, the rookie king who used to follow me around everywhere had learned how to lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the chapters I had stocked up... This is strictly a first draft, so I'll keep editing it, and please point out any mistakes~
> 
> There's a short story I read recently courtesy of Red Glasses Girl in which Conrad confesses that he rarely has anything to do when Yuuri is away on Earth, and Yuuri himself says that all Wolfram usually does is follow him around on his crazy whims. I thought Wolf could easily interpret it the other way around, and as he matures he would surely want to do something more for his beloved king ;)
> 
> Also, introducing 'Trap Lady' Greta! xD Not sure how it'll end up yet, but so far Greta is pretty good at what she decided to do~ And anyone else see the double meaning in her title? By the way, Poison Lady or Doku Onna also seems to a pun-- the word for 'poison' can also be read as 'single' or 'alone' ;) 
> 
> All the single ladies~


	10. So Close, Yet...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a name is revealed and a nefarious plot threatens to destroy the hard-earned, yet too fragile happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the last climax of the story~ Hmm, I guess I'll put the ending at around chapter 14 or 15?

“What’s this?” Yuuri stares at the envelope Murata is offering us suspiciously. “If it’s another one of those manga…”

                “I’m insulted, Shibuya.” The young Sage adjusts his glasses pompously. “This, is the result of hours of research and careful contemplation, considering external and internal factors, referring to a variety of sources in many different languages—”

                I finally get it. “This is the name you chose?”

                “…Yes.” Murata coughs, and continues rather grudgingly, “I hope you’ll appreciate the effort I put into this, I even found a normal Japanese name as well as a grand Mazoku name for him, out of respect for his mixed heritage--”

                “Let me see!” I snatch the envelope away from my husband eagerly. There are two slips of fine quality paper in it, and the first one has four words I recognize as the ‘kanjee’ from Yuuri’s world. Hehe, I knew brushing up on his native language would come in handy someday. “Shibuya… Mari?”

                Yuuri’s face immediately starts twitching. “Murata, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but… that’s a girl’s name, right? And even if it is a boy’s name that sounds like a girl’s name but is actually in fact really a boy’s name, I don’t want my kid to suffer the same fate I did—Wait, don’t tell me that the ‘ma’ in ‘Mari’ is the ‘ma’ in--!”

                In the face of his best friend’s nervous breakdown, Murata calmly plucks the paper out of my hand and stuffs it into Yuuri’s. “Lord von Bielefelt just read it wrong. Try it again.”

                A few second’s later, Yuuri’s eyes focus enough to make out the words. “Shibuya… Shinri.”

                “It means ‘truth’,” Murata informs me, looking pleased with himself. “And it continues on in the pattern of Shibuya’s and his brother’s names. Shouri, Yuuri… Shinri.”

                Yuuri raises his hand like a child in class during roll call. “Murata, I’m glad that it’s not the ‘ma’ as in ‘Maou’, but why is it the ‘shin’ as in Shinou?”

                Both of us duly ignore him and turn our attention to the other name in the envelope.

 

Recently I have started spending more time out of my room and in the nursery.

                It’s only a month until my due date, and already the castle is in a frenzy, hastening to make all the preparations to greet the new prince or princess. Although those of us in the know have no doubt as to which one it is, we decided not to officially announce something so important on a pregnant man’s whim.

                So it’s definitely not because I put one month of my wages into the sweepstake under Dakaskos’ name, not at all.

                While Gunter is still making a fuss about baby-proofing the entire castle (‘His Majesty’s child must be every bit as perfect yet beautifully fragile as his father, therefore we must not leave anything to chance!’), I’m pretty happy about the way the nursery turned out. Yuuri had made most of the decisions, only surprising me with it a few days ago.

                “I like it too,” Giesela admits during my daily check-up. “I’ll tell you what, if everything goes well today, I don’t see why you can’t spend your entire day there. There’s a nice cosy chair, and all your paints, right?”

                I’m surprised, and I don’t try to hide it. My hobby was just another thing on the long list of ‘don’ts’, because it involves a lot of standing and ‘unhealthy fumes’.

                “I think you’ve deserved it, after being such a cooperative patient for so long.” Giesela’s smile is faint, but fond. “And even I can’t find any fault with your health these days, Your Highness. I suppose that’s the advantage of the baby getting its soul so early on in the pregnancy.” The soothing light fades, and she takes her hand away from my belly. “Your body has long since gotten used to the burden of two souls. As long as neither of you use your magic, I don’t see why you can’t keep this balance all the way until the day of delivery.”

               No magic… but it’s something I’ve accepted a long time ago, and so I nod curtly. It’s only for a month more, anyway. I’ve lasted this long, and all that’s left is—as Yuuri would put it—the home stretch.

                The nursery is just adjacent to our room, because neither of us can stand the idea of being too far away from our baby when he comes, especially for the first few months. Yuuri even had a hole drilled into the wall between the two rooms, so that we’ll be sure to hear it if he starts crying in the middle of the night. Although Lord von Christ has already started auditioning candidates for nannies, the two of us have decided that we want to raise our child our way, and be the best parents we can.

                Stepping into the intricately designed nursery, I wonder if we’ve started spoiling him already.

                Even though the rooms are just next to each other, they couldn’t be any more different. The nursery is smaller, but the bright blue walls remove any possibility of claustrophobia. Compared to the grand décor of the royal bedroom, the furniture here is minimalistic, but every piece carefully handpicked and matched. The cot, for example, is a gift from a human country on the border of Shin Makoku, while the mobile hanging delicately from the ceiling is a congratulatory present from Yuuri’s mother, made in Earth.

                Yuuri had refused to return to his original world for months after our stay in the von Bielefelt lands, but eventually Murata forced him to go back and recharge*. I would’ve loved to follow him—it has been a while since I met my in-laws-- but the suggestion had no sooner left my lips when it was violently rejected from all sides. The effects of the ‘Star Tour’* on someone are still largely unknown, and no one was willing to risk me and the baby in our current state.

                I chuckle to myself when I remember the way Yuuri hesitated at the edge of the pool for so long, until finally Murata had to push him in. Perhaps he was worried that whatever little time he spent there would translate into years over here, and he’d come back to find that his son was all grown up or something. Either way, he was back within the week, bearing tons of gifts and looking relieved when he saw for himself that neither I nor the baby had changed much during his time away.

                Mother had apparently thrown a fit when he told her she couldn’t be around for her grandchild’s birth, and it had taken all of Father’s strength to stop her from diving into the tub. As for Brother Shouri, apprentice Demon King-in-denial*, it seems that he had yet to thaw out by the time Yuuri left. And since Yuuri wouldn’t tell me how long he had stayed there, that could be anywhere from minutes to hours to days.

                Although judging by the sheer amount of baby items he’s brought back, it must have been at least a few hours, enough time for my dear in-laws to rush over to the nearest store and clean out the shelves.

                Either that or they’ve been planning for this all along, and had bought everything when they first found out we were engaged. I still don’t know how I feel about that option.

                And… why were there frilly pink dresses hanging in the closet?

                When I looked at Yuuri questioningly, he averted his gaze, and muttered something about ‘just in case’, and ‘otherwise we can destroy them with fire’.

                I was actually about to tell him how cute they were, and how I wouldn’t mind dressing our child in them even if he is a boy, but I wisely decided against it. I guess his childhood traumas haven’t left him after all, although that put me in half a mind to pretend I didn’t know about them and suggest it anyway.

                _Hey, baby, do you like these? I don’t mind even if you’ve somehow got the same strange habits as Gurrier… In fact, I’m sure you’ll look absolutely adorable._

                I rub my belly as I settle back into the rocking chair, feeling generally satisfied with life.

                _Just don’t tell your Papa, okay? We’ll make it a surprise._

                I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I’m sure when I did I was smiling.

 

Too bad it doesn’t last.

                When I wake up, my first thought is, _Where am I?_

My second is—

                _Danger!_

I’m still in the nursery, but the sky outside the blinds is dark, starkly contrasting the streak of flaming red in the horizon. _The city’s on fire!_

                But that alone wouldn’t have been enough to wake me up.

                I am instantly aware of three men clothed in black surrounding me. They have obviously come prepared, because in the time I take to assess the situation, one of them claps a hand around my mouth and nose.

                “Mmrgh!”

                Another pulls my hands to my back, binding my wrists together with rope. Now I can’t even use my sword—if I was carrying one in the first place. The sad truth is that no one thought I would need one, not even myself.

                But here I am now, unable to use my magic, no access to a weapon, and in a very awkward situation to be using any hand-to-hand combat skills. No, scratch that, I can’t even move my hands anymore, and if I try kicking them off balance, who knows how we’ll land…

                I bite my lip. No, I can’t risk it. Not when we’re already so close.

                The mystery men move quickly and efficiently, leading me to the abandoned wing of the castle. I see, so they were hiding in the bearbee mating grounds… An inexplicable anger rises within me, and I try my best to force it down. They’ve already invaded the home of our ‘children’, and now they are threatening this little one, just a month away from being born safely.

               But no, I must stay calm. The castle is eerily empty—most of the soldiers must have moved out to deal with the fire, and the few that remain are easily taken out. That’s when I notice that the invaders are holding those despicable human magic stones, and ones so powerful that they can overpower Mazoku even in the heart of our kingdom.

                I spend just a fraction of a second wondering why I’m not affected before my mind closes around the possibility of such concentrated Houjutsu, and what it means for the Shin Makoku.

                I must tell Yuuri… but to do that, first I must survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I didn't actually put a lot of thought into the name, it just came to me suddenly, honest :3 At first it sounds like any normal name, maybe 'truth' to balance Yuuri's 'justice', but then I realized that (with my limited knowledge of kanji) that the word "眞" can be pronounced as either 'Shin' or 'Ma', and that just went too well with the pun of the word 'Demon' (魔), a trademark of the series. Every book in the main storyline has that word in it somehow ;) 
> 
> And heh, maybe Murata has some ulterior motives after all, naming the future prince in the hopes that someday he'll be the new 'Shin-ou'... Also, Mari, like Yuuri, is more often than not a girl's name~
> 
> Other notes: Yuuri calls the mind-bending journey between worlds the 'Star Tour', and he does actually have to spend some time on Earth to 'recharge', or his powers will gradually weaken. In the novels, he's currently spending his longest time in the other world without going home, so the full extent of the effect remains unknown. On that note, the only people to travel between worlds in the novels are Yuuri, Murata, and an American woman named Hazel Graves. Her story is a long one, but since she landed in Seisakoku as a dying woman of 60+ and 60 years later looks no different but is still dying, there is no way to say for sure yet how it'll affect anyone else. Gwen tried jumping into the Star Tour by accident, but all that happened was they were thrown off course and ended up in another corner of the other world, so I'll try not to write so much about characters jumping back and forth as they please. Murata did say that Yuuri can control the portal now, though, so maybe that'll happen soon enough.
> 
> For the last point, even though Shouri is exceptionally smart and has accepted that his brother is Demon King in an alternate world, he still thinks that Bob is trying to train him into becoming 'governor' of Tokyo xD If that's not denial, I don't know what is~


	11. Fighting Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which antagonists are introduced, and Wolfram discovers the difficulties of swearing at his own child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I've been meaning to write that part for ages~

They toss me onto the dusty wooden floor, but not hard enough to actually cause any damage. Oddly enough, they’ve been forceful but at the same time surprisingly careful with their hostage.

                My mind is going a thousand miles an hour, every nerve in my body tingling with adrenaline. As a soldier, my survival instincts had always been better than a normal civilian could even imagine, but never before had I felt so desperate to just _live_. There’s just too much at stake here—more than just me, something more important to me than my own life.

                One of them lights a small flame, and I instantly recognize him as one of King Belar the Fourth’s personal guards. So Big Shimaron is behind this…

                But why? What is their goal?

                The man is obviously the oldest and the leader among the gang of intruders, his heavyset features and slick black hair tainted with age. Of the other two, one moves with the stealth and strength of a sea leopard—I assume that he’s the reason they managed to sneak under our defenses so successfully.

                But the last one… For a moment I cannot place the familiar aura he has about him, in the fidgety way he holds his hands, the slight stoop of his back, the rimless glasses perched on his nose. To my soldier’s eye, he is undoubtedly the weak link.

                That’s all the more reason to be wary of him. On a high-risk mission like this, each man is chosen meticulously to perform their respective tasks. He had a role, and probably one only he could play.

                “What do you need?” My eyes widen in surprise when the leader asks the third man’s opinion, although with a tone of reluctance.

                “It depends.” The bespectacled third man laughs nervously. “Do you need both of them, or just one?”

               The older man frowns, turning his gaze on me like a butcher would at cattle. “I thought I told you. Take out the child, but its first breath must be after its--” He pauses, flexing his jaw as though the mere thought repulsed him, “— _mother’s_ last.”

                “That’s a tall order.” The third man’s eyes shine unnaturally brightly behind his glasses.

                “And that’s why you’re here, doctor.” There is no love lost between these two—In fact, I see more contempt in the way the soldier looks at his ally than when he looked at me. “I heard you enjoyed this kind of thing…?”

                “Oh? Who _ever_ gave you that idea?” But there’s a barely suppressed glee in the way he’s rubbing his hands. “I didn’t think, though—that the child’s bearer would be quite so… fine a specimen. In return for completing this task, do you think His Majesty will grant me possession of the remains?”

                “Your reward,” the soldier spits angrily, “would be to escape from the gallows! If this wasn’t a matter of national importance, a mass murderer like you would never even get out of solitary confinement!”

                “Yes, yes, but still, a man can hope…”

                The other man, the silent one, turns his head away as I process the information I received. Even though it’s a relief to know that they don’t plan on harming my child, I had no intention of just sitting by and letting them cut me up either. If I die, who will take care of my baby? Even if I’m certain Yuuri will get him back from their clutches at any cost, there’s no way any child of mine is growing up without both his parents.

                “I don’t like the way he’s glaring at us,” says the soldier suddenly, turning onto me with cold eyes. “Do you need him unconscious for this?”

                “No.” The doctor’s grin seems to glow ominously in the firelight. “I know ways to incapacitate him without him losing consciousness, but I don’t think we need those either. After all…” He flips open a suitcase and I see that it’s full of neatly arranged knives, gleaming in the dark. “…you wouldn’t want to make my hand slip, would you? If you do, I might not be able to control the depth of the cut.”

                “I see.” The soldier smiles, a cruel expression without warmth. Then he rips off my gag in a quick, painful movement.

                “You--!” I’m ready to hurl every profanity I’ve picked up over the past eighty-five years at them, but my body is suddenly slammed into the ground, knocking the breath out of me. A flare of pain shoots up from my stomach, the first warning sign, but that’s nothing compared to the foreboding touch of cold metal that follows.

                The doctor doesn’t even bother to hike up my nightdress—he just cuts straight through the flimsy fabric, and the blade brushes my skin, gently breaking the surface. A chill runs down my back, and suddenly I know what’s going to happen—

                The pencil*-thin cut glows, then disappears like it was erased.

                “You son of a—No, wait-- You little bas— _No!_ ”

                For a moment my captors look stupefied, and not because of the healing.

                But I don’t have the energy to care about them right now--because I had just realized how hard it is to curse at your own kid.

                The leader’s grip on my shoulders tighten. “I thought you said he can’t use magic!”

                “He shouldn’t,” the quiet one finally speaks up, frowning.

                Do you hear that? Do you _hear that?!_ Even the enemy knows it!

                “We’ll just have to cut deeper then,” the doctor says harshly. This time I can feel his scalpel digging directly into my womb, nearly causing me to scream out in pain.

                I had heard that in Yuuri’s world, women gave birth this way all the time. That’s why I was in no hurry to escape, because I was confident that if those human women can do it, surely I can too. But I never expected the pain to be so intense, reaching deep into my bones.

                But as soon as he pulls the blade away from my flesh, the wound closes up, leaving my skin perfectly smooth once more.

                I didn’t know it was possible to be quite so angry at my own unborn child.

                How many times have do I have to tell you?! I ignore the soothing warmth from my belly, as though the little one in there is trying to calm me down. Why do you insist on using your magic when—

                Oh.

                When I realize why that sounds so familiar, I have the ridiculous urge to hold my head and sigh, despite the circumstances. Should I be glad that he inherited both of his parents’ signature traits, or upset because none of them are good?

                “Quick!” The soldier is the first to realize what’s happening. “If he’s breaking the rules, you’d better get the child out now, before--”

                “ _Wolfram!”_

That voice—

                “ _Yuuri!”_ My wounds may be healed, but the blood loss is already getting to my head. I put my entire being into screaming his name, using so much force it almost tears my throat apart. There’s pain everywhere now, and I revel in it, as long as it keeps me conscious and clear-headed. “ _Come quick!”_

                Something else this child takes on from his father is the way that he doesn’t seem to listen to reason once he’s on a roll. His magic is beginning to spiral out of control, and I don’t dare to try and suppress him with my own, not after what happened last time. The biggest difference compared to last time is that he’s older now, stronger. And after what I just went through, I’m not sure if my body can hold up if I summon my Maryoku too.

                The only who can stop him now is Yuuri.

                “Damn,” the soldier curses. “Doctor--!”

                “There’s not enough time!” A man of medicine, no matter how maniacal, simply does not have the same strength of will that can only be earned on the battlefield. He flies into a panic, rummaging through his suitcase and flinging knives everywhere. “There’s still something… My plan B… Aha!”

                Footsteps are thundering down the abandoned corridors, so near I can almost make out Gwendal’s sternness, Conrad’s determination, and Yuuri’s desperation.  _I’m here—_ I want to yell, but by now it’s taking me all my willpower just to keep the rampaging Maryoku in check.

                That’s why I don’t notice what the doctor is doing until a prick of pain on my arm leads my gaze to the large syringe, emptying its contents into my bloodstream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The high action chapters are shorter, huh... And don't ask me why there's suddenly a psychopathic doctor, I don't know either.
> 
> As for the solitary * in the chapter, it's based on a throwaway remark in one of the short stories when Yuuri says that he's been introducing pencils to the Shin Makoku so he can get away with doodling on important documents~ xD


	12. Hello, Good-bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's too early, yet it's been too long. I just wish I could have said, "It's nice to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending tentatively set at Chapter 14?

By the time the cavalry arrives, I’m on the ground cradling my stomach, face covered in sweat and agony. Wave after wave of unbearable pain rips through my body, through my very soul, tearing me apart.

                “After them!” I am only barely aware of Gwendal ordering his men after the culprits, focusing instead on Yuuri’s hand in mine. His palm is cold and clammy, fear written all over his beautiful features.

                “Wolf, what happened? What did they do to you?! _Wolf!”_

A flash of flaming red sweeps past me, and Anissina picks up the fallen syringe. She sniffs it, even tastes it a little, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

                “Poison?” My husband stares at her, realization dawning in his eyes. “If it’s poison, then you can find a cure, right, Anissina? Because you’re the Poison Lady, after all…”

                But her frown only deepens, and in my pain-induced haze I can almost see how she is similar to her fiancé in a way, my mind wandering in spite of myself back to what Yuuri said about couples sharing habits.

                “I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” Anisssina bites her lip, as though she has to force herself to say the words. “This is no poison I recognize.”

                “…That’s because it isn’t poison.” Giesela snatches the syringe away from her, and just when everyone is bracing themselves for a catfight, Anissina nods with what almost looks like relief. In comparison, Giesela’s expression turns paler and paler. “This is medicine—A common, yet cruel and brutal drug.”

                Yuuri looks confused, trying to understand how something made to save lives can be called cruel.

                “It induces labor, Your Majesty.” Giesela takes a deep breath. “In a way that completely disregards the mother’s health—and life.”

                There’s an explosion of sound as everyone starts shouting at once. Gwendal demands to know how such a dangerous drug could be allowed on the streets, Gunter asks if there’s a cure. The soldiers Gwendal sent come back empty-handed, and Conrad looks like he wants nothing more than to hunt them down himself.

                And Yuuri is squeezing my hand, his whole body shaking as he mumbles in a daze, “Why…? Why would they…? Why now, when we’re so close…?”

                There’s someone else here, someone I hadn’t noticed immediately. At times like these Murata Ken tended to fade into the background with his black hair, eyes and clothes, completely opposite to the way Yuuri seems to shine. In the chaos, he’s the only one who keeps his calm, surveying the scene and discovering the bloody scalpel.

                “That’s--” Yuuri’s eyes widen.

                “They tried to cut you open, didn’t they?” Murata asks softly. “One of them must have been a medical practitioner. But they only wanted the child, right? They didn’t care about you—No, they specifically needed you dead before the child is born.”

                “Cut--” Yuuri echoes. “But how—There’s no--” And he realizes.

                Just as I thought, the baby quiets down immediately as soon as he recognizes his father’s magic. It seems like I’ll be leaving night duty to Yuuri then…

                Minus the burden of suppressing the child’s magic, I regain enough strength to at least whisper weakly. “Yes, but why…?”

                “Because of the Boxes.”

                That forbidden word seems to resound around the room, and everyone falls abruptly silent, their undivided attention on the young Sage.

                Murata sigh, adjusting his glasses to hide his eyes. “Shibuya, do you remember how to tell if someone is a Key, and why it’s so hard to keep track of them?”

                “The Key is passed down through the soul, so to confirm if someone is a Key, they must be born into the same bloodline when the previous bearer d--*” Yuuri’s words trail off, his gaze loses focus.

                “—and the reason why people rarely know who the next generation of Keys are, is because Mazoku don’t bother about their birthdays.*” Murata turns to me, his expression unreadable. “As a Key, they probably think that a half-human baby would be much easier to subdue and manipulate than an eighty-year-old pureblood Mazoku. Especially if the child is born a month premature.”

                “But that’s ridiculous!” my oldest brother roars. “The child already has a soul, there’s no way he can be the Key!”

                “Yes, but do the humans understand the intricacies of the Mazoku soul? All they know is that ‘the new Key is born into the same family when the old Key dies’.” He pauses, as though choosing his words carefully. “And there have been cases among the Mazoku where a mother with a particularly strong soul and particularly difficult labor transfers her own soul to her child, who would otherwise be stillborn.”

                If the soul of a Key isn’t considered ‘strong’, I don’t know what is.

                “So they did this… All of this… for a power that was never meant to be theirs? They would hurt a mother and an innocent child, for a forbidden power that can only destroy even more lives…”

                “Settle down, Shibuya.” Murata puts a reassuring hand on Yuuri’s trembling shoulders. “You should know by now that to the Belars, a Key represents more than just the power of the Box. Ever since they stole that name and the kingdom from Sir Weller’s ancestors, they know that the last thing they need to finalize their status as the reigning family of Big Shimaron is a Key in their line. Even if they had taken the child, they would probably raise him as a prince—completely oblivious to his real heritage, of course.”

                Giesela is working her magic on me, and I gain a long enough respite from the pain to smile at Yuuri in what I hoped was confidence, but turns out rather shaky.

                “I can do this, Yuuri. I have to, eventually, and now it’s just--” I wince as another contraction sears through me, this time toned down slightly by Giesela’s magic. She’s slowing the process, which isn’t good for the baby or me, but right now I need to keep my sanity for a while longer. “—a little sooner than we expected, that’s all.”

                Despite Giesela’s best efforts, I know better than anyone that it’s only a matter of time. My child has gone worryingly still inside me, I can feel it, and the thought of having him safely in my arms as soon as possible almost overrides the increasingly frequent and intense stabs of pain.

               

 “Aaaaaaaaaaargh--!”

                “You’re doing great, Highness!” Giesela is saying something, but I neither understand nor care what it is.  Mother had warned me about this before, saying it was the worst pain she ever felt, a pain unimaginable before and incomparable after. And due to the effects of the drug, what I’m feeling is much worse.

                “Hang in there, Wolf!” Yuuri is still holding my hand, never having let go since he personally carried me back to our room. There were protests, and three different people (Anissina being one of them) had offered to do it instead, but he had insisted, with that signature determination of his, bordering on foolishness. On the inside, however, he was probably as nervous as everyone else, terrified that he might drop and break me.

                I guess the only one who never doubted him was me. And I was right.

                “There’s too much blood!” Giesela is yelling, bringing back awful memories of the von Bielefelt castle. Maids are scurrying back and forth with towels stained crimson and fresh water, their expressions fearful and close to tears. “Your Highness, breathe!”

                “Breathe with me, Wolf,” Yuuri pleads, doing that ridiculous breathing exercise he taught me on the rowing boat to Van da Via. When Conrad told me later what it’s really meant for, I had felt nothing but humiliation, never once thinking that there would come a time when I would actually have to use it for its intended purpose.

                So much has changed since then, but the only thing that matters is that Yuuri is still next to me, still cheering me on.

                “Nnnnnngh—ha!”

                “Keep pushing, you’re almost there!”

                Everyone’s waiting for me outside. I can hear Gwendal’s pacing, Gunter’s fussing, Conrad soothing a sobbing Greta. They’re all so worried, and it’s all my fault. And Yuuri, too… he looks like he’ll fall apart at any moment. Just like he’s the one keeping me strong, I’m the one that’s holding him together.

                For him, for all of them—even if it seems impossible, I have to get through this in one piece.

                “I see the head!” Giesela’s excited announcement gives me the ridiculous urge to bend over and take a look, but Yuuri holds me down. “One last push, Your Highness! Ready, breathe— _push!”_

                _“Ngaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”_

I will never forget the moment he left my body. After 11 months of carrying him around me everywhere I went, my body feels suddenly empty, and hollow. My consciousness starts to float away, no matter how hard I try to pull it back, and I’m only vaguely aware of it when Giesela puts him into my arms.

                He feels even lighter than he did in my stomach, so small it makes my heart ache just looking at him. He’s barely bigger than my palm, his tiny feet only the size of one of my fingernails. His skin is pale but flushed where Giesela had rubbed him dry, a little mop of curly black hair on his fragile head.

                He’s not crying.

                There’s an awful lot of background noise—Giesela shouting orders, maids scampering everywhere and sobbing, the door bursting open—I wish that they would all just keep quiet for a moment and let me listen. He’s breathing, he’s definitely breathing… but why isn’t he crying? Aren’t all babies supposed to cry when they’re born?

                _“—still bleeding!”_

                My vision begins to cloud at the sides, and soon all I can see is my baby. I don’t mind, I really don’t mind if he’s the last thing I ever see, but please, at least let me hear his voice, or see the color of his eyes—

                _“—Your Highness!”_

His face begins to blur, but whether it’s due to blood loss or tears I can’t tell. And then a familiar large hand, tanned by days of training in the sun and calloused by baseball mitts, caresses his tiny cheek.

                “ _No, Daddy!”_

He moves, a little irritably, the way his mother does every morning when his father leaves the bed for work. And then, finally, he begins to open his eyes.

                _“Wolf…”_

Two pairs of almost identical eyes, one large and one tiny, both as green as the bottom of a lake, meet for but a fraction of a second.

                But almost as soon as one pair opens, the other drifts to a close, as though satisfied with what they saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the horrible SFX, I really dunno how to do those T^T
> 
> So this is the long-awaited birth scene... What do you guys think? I'm not sure if I'm happy with it or not, and for some reason I'm kinda sad that it's over...


	13. Told You He Was Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of mourning, dark hands creep up from the shadows to grab that which is most important...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Ahh, who am I kidding? It's all in the tags xP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter! And I'm dedicating this one to eclst, who's been crazy supportive!

Covenant Castle is mourning.

                The birth of His Royal Highness Prince Shinri Wilfred was highly anticipated, but no one is in the mood to celebrate now.

                Not when it cost the life of the Prince Consort, Lord Wolfram von Bielefelt.

                The young Demon King has shut himself up in his room, refusing to even look at his son since the latter’s birth. Both of his esteemed uncles, too, have turned their backs on the child, born small and weak, bearing the curse of having caused his mother’s death. Now the infant is alone in the nursery, left to the custody of a few reluctant handmaids.

                Barely a day after he is born, and already no one could care less about his life.

                --such is the report from the best surveillance officer of Big Shimaron to his superior.

                The older man digests this information carefully. Their initial plan had failed spectacularly, but the repulsive doctor turned out to be somewhat useful, after all. Although they could not be sure if the Prince Consort died before or after childbirth, and by extension whether or not the child is a Key, it’s still better than returning to Big Shimaron empty-handed and facing King Belar’s wrath.

                Grief is as good a distraction as any, and they make their move the very next night.

                The entire corridor is dark, weighed heavily with the silence of the grieving. They are even spared the trouble of incapacitating any servants or guards, because they encounter none.

                “What else would you expect from the Mazoku?” The soldier’s eyes seem to see through the blackness of the night, finding the newborn prince in his cot. “Only demons could be so heartless to their own children.”

                “…Oh? That’s rather hypocritical of you, since you were the ones who hurt him and his mother in the first place.”

                The torches on the walls suddenly burst to life, temporarily blinding the intruders. But once they recover their sight, they start wishing they hadn’t.

                A secret door connecting the royal bedroom to the nursery had swung open, and what looks like every soldier in the castle surrounds them, led by their king and his consort, resembling a beautiful but very angry angel.*

*

For a moment there, even I thought I would die.

                I certainly lost way too much blood, so much that even Giesela had started losing hope. But no matter how much paler I got, or how slow my heartbeat became, I clung onto life viciously, like a spider balancing on a thin yet sturdy thread, until finally the bleeding stopped.

                Or at least, that’s what Yuuri told me after I woke up.

                Honestly, I don’t remember any of that. All I could recall was my baby’s beautiful eyes-- even after the darkness claimed me, that image alone occupied my mind. Before I could even think, _Huh, so this what dying feels like,_ somewhere in my dreams I had heard him calling, a voice that I never heard before yet knew instinctively was his. And then, all I had to was to reach out towards it.

                Giesela had predicted that even if I survived, I wouldn’t wake up for at least a week.

                As it turned out, I was conscious and feeding my baby for the first time when she visited us in the morning.

                “Is it just me,” I had frowned, too busy scrutinizing my son to notice that the healer had frozen into a statue, “or is he bigger than he was last night?”

                Yuuri had fallen asleep by my bed, and I tried not to wake him up. She rather messed that up by spectacularly losing the calmness she was so known for. My husband had gotten up, eyes bleary and hair a mess, to find me in an awkward position with a baby at my breast.

                After all that happened last night, the nightmare I put him through, he just smiled at me, crawled into the covers, and went back to sleep.

                That’s my husband for you, I thought proudly. He never once doubted me.

                Giesela’s shrieks call my brothers into the room, and that is when I first hear about Gwendal’s plan. They had spread the word that I didn’t survive the night, hoping to lure the enemy out of hiding. But the chances were slim that they would fall for it, because there was no way we would endanger a newborn by using him as bait.

                “Why not?” was my cool reply. “We’ll just leave him in the nursery and say that everyone has retreated to their own rooms to grieve. There’s no real risk, not when there are so many of us watching over him.”

                I puffed my chest out proudly. “And do you really think I’ll let anyone hurt my son? If I can’t even bring them to justice for what they did to us, then I’ll forever lose my dignity as a von Bielefelt, and the Maou’s consort. But most importantly…” This time I clench one fist into the sheets, while the other cradles my poor, premature baby. His tiny hand curls around my finger, encouraging me and strengthening my resolve. “…this little one would have suffered for nothing.”

                For a long while everyone except Yuuri insisted that my head was still fuzzy from blood loss, and I should just stay in bed, take it easy for a month or two. As though that’s not what I’ve been doing for the past half year.

                But as a direct victim of the enemy’s actions and mother of this child, I had a decisive say in this matter. And the only other person who had the power to override my decision, my king, husband and father of my child, just agreed with everything I said.

                Even after he woke up, Yuuri looked at me and our son like we were a beautiful dream he never wanted to wake from.

                “…I think it’s a good idea.”

                When even the Great Sage said that, no one had the heart to argue anymore. Murata entered our room noiselessly, and the overbearing crowd parted before him like that sea before that guy Yuuri always talks about. In no time at all he was  by our bed, and looking down at my child with an expression of uncharacteristic tenderness. “Can I hold Shinri?”

                Oh, yeah, I almost forgot we already named him. “Sure, godfather.”

                “Your eyes are just like your mother’s, aren’t they? It’s too bad you’re not a double black, but you’re still a really pretty baby, aren’t you? Pretty baby…”

                That was when it occured to me—maybe he sided with me just so I would give his godson to him without a fuss?

*

In the short time we had before nightfall, Yuuri had someone stealthily enlarge the hole in the wall to an actual door.

                And then all we had to do was wait.

                “Wolf, maybe you shouldn’t--”

                “Shut up and help me stand,” I snap at him, frustrated and a little shocked to find how weak my body really is. “That’s my baby out there, I have to see him with my own eyes.”

                “Our baby,” Yuuri corrects me, and instead of tugging me to my feet he pulls me straight into his arms. “And we’ll watch him together.”

                “…Mn.” I lean into his embrace, telling myself that I’m doing it for support, and not because my heart is overflowing with love, for him and for our son next door.

                “Your Majesty, Your Highness, they’re here!” Anissina hisses. She’s the only one here who can see perfectly well in the dark, using her ‘The Sun Does Not Dictate My Vision’ binoculars—powered and tested by Lord von Voltaire, of course. “All units, at your stations!”

                As soon as all three of them are in the room, we spring out of hiding, surrounding them completely.

                “You--!” The doctor, the man who had single-handedly sent me to hell and back, the reason my baby is so much smaller than he has to be, stares at me as though he’s seen a ghost. Which was the whole point of the plan, actually, so I’d say it was a success.

                “Yes, me,” I can’t help but gloat. “Did you really think your petty human medicine could take the life of a powerful Mazoku?” I’m not going to tell him how close it got, though.

                “I see.” The soldier still looks remarkably calm, although he seems to be futilely trying to back away from us, one small step at a time. “So the child is not a Key?”

                “That’s right!” Yuuri says quickly. “I’m sorry you have to give your boss the bad news, but my son really isn’t what you want!”

                “Is that so?” Too late, we realize that he is no more than a couple feet away from the crib where Shinri should be sleeping. “Even if he’s not the Key, I think His Majesty could settle with simply the prince of the Shin Makoku!”

                _“No!_ ” I want to rush forward, but my legs betray me, distracting everyone else in the process. Yuuri catches me before I hit the ground, and we can only watch helplessly as the enemy dives for our defenseless baby—

                Only to bounce off what looks like a luminescent blue force field.

                A giggle resounds from all the way across the room, and through the bars of the cot we see that he’s wide awake after all, eyes open and alert. Those eyes that look so much like mine even hold of some of the Little Lord Brat’s infamous arrogance—then he blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, they are as black and clear as his father’s.

                He waves his tiny fist, and a gush of cold air freezes all three assassins into solid ice.

                “Exactly what I’d expect from the soul that even that man can’t interfere with.” Murata is the first one to react, striding across the nursery to pick up Shinri. “Aww, your eyes have gone back to green… If only you were a real double black, then maybe you could revive my ancestor’s clan.*”

                “I think he’s beautiful the way he is,” Yuuri finds his voice to protest, and I’m inclined to agree. I know what they say, that every child is perfect to his or her parents, but my Shinri really is perfect! Well… at least externally…

                Uhm, so now we know he still has his powers, but what are the chances he’ll keep the other habits he had when he was still in the womb?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering why I added a * to the angry angel part? Because I read up on Yuuri's first meeting with Wolf again and that's exactly how he described him. "He's practically an angel... An angry angel. But since he's here, he's probably also a beautiful demon."
> 
> The other * is about the Daikenja's clan. In the extra about what I like to dub 'the first generation', Shinou (I forgot his real name... if he had one) is a bastard prince and mentions a clan in the East, of black-haired, black-eyed people known for their intelligence, and how one such woman might have borne his father a son... Since double blacks are extremely rare in their world now, I think we can safely assume that that clan is extinct, or at least presumed lost.
> 
> PS. Shinri's other name is Wilfred because 1. the Mazoku names are supposed to be German; 2. anyone else noticed that the von Bielefelts we know of (only two of them, but still) have names that start with W?; and 3. it means 'desiring peace' :3 On that note, you wouldn't believe how many German boy names that start with W have 'king' or 'ruler' somewhere in the meaning...
> 
> PPS. If anyone can name that other character I adore that has to balance the powers of fire and ice in his body, I'll give you whatever sort of fic you want ;)


	14. My Baby's Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad we made it this far, I really am...
> 
> But if there's anyone out there, listening, please forgive me for being greedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter~ not counting the epilogue, of course.
> 
>  
> 
> ...Okay, so maybe the epilogue is the real ending. Shoot me xP

The first I did after carrying my son back to our room is to take out my trusty tape measure. And I was right-- he _is_ bigger than he was yesterday.

                “Mazoku child growth is very unpredictable,” Gwendal says gruffly. “Don’t worry about it, you just rest, we’ll handle everything else.”

               A week later, he’s as big as the average full-term Mazoku baby, and that’s half a month before his actual due date.

                “He’s the son of the Maou, of course he’d be a survivor,” Gunter says proudly. “By the way, are you sure you should be out of bed?”

                By the time my mother rushes back from her trip, just in time for my now obsolete due date, her grandson doesn’t look anything like a one-month premature baby. She had to rub her eyes and ask my new stepfather twice if they hadn’t gotten the date wrong by a couple more months.

                “If you ask me, it was all his plan,” Giesela is fond of saying as she bounces him on her knee. “He didn’t want to put too much strain on his mother, so he waited until he was born before he really hit his growth spurt.”

                Since even the ever-practical Sergeant is saying that, I have no choice but to believe it. A month after his nightmarish birth, and already he has the entire castle under his spell.

                “And, Your Highness, don’t even think for a moment that you can sneak out to training. You’re on bed rest for another half month, at least.”

                Oh, yeah, and I’m still under house arrest.

                “It’s not that bad,” Yuuri tries to console me, rubbing my shoulders the way only he can. “You get to spend more time with Shinri, and besides, you should know better than anyone that you’re not back at full strength yet.”

                “I don’t have to be a hundred per cent well to do my daily laps!” I protest. “And I’ve been practically bedridden for a year! The next one had better not be this bad…”

                “The next one?” Yuuri has gone abruptly green. “Wolf, don’t tell me you want to…”

                “Have more? Naturally.” I roll my eyes at him. “Our son needs some company, doesn’t he? We can’t be playing with him all day, every day. To be honest, I was planning to have three, just like Mo--”

                _“I forbid it!_ ” He jumps to his feet violently, shirking away from me as though I had the plague. “No way am I going through that again!”

                “Oi, I’m the one who did all the work here!” I’m starting to get annoyed. Although a lot of Shinri’s clothes were tailor-made before he was born, he’s growing so fast now that most of the time he can only wear something for a day or two before he outgrows it. Since the royal tailors can’t keep up anymore, I’ve started sneaking into town occasionally to shop for baby clothes, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute those tiny little dresses are…

                Thinking about the pretty lacy one I got out of some irrational maternal instinct yesterday and the others Mother and Father bought on Earth, I say aloud, “I want a girl, at least. So we’ll keep going until Greta gets a little sister.”

                Yuuri looks like he might faint at any moment. “I decided, I’m never touching you ever again.”

                “Don’t be ridiculous, I--”

                “I’m serious, Wolf! I swear to God, even if He probably won’t listen, but anyway, I swear that if I have to see you bleed like that again, I will really lose my mind!”

                _You don’t have to watch…_ But I wisely decide not to say that. Sleeping next to him every night, I know very well the nightmares he’s been having. Sometimes I would wake up at four in the morning, suffocating. And yet I never pushed him away, or tried to break free from his rib-crushing embrace, because I could see in the moonlight the tears streaking down his face as he mumbled my name.

                I sigh. “Yuuri, I…”

                “I mean it this time! And don’t you use your mommy voice on me!”

                Whatever words I had thought up to coax him fly clean out of my head. “My _what?”_

He scowls at me, looking adorably unlike someone who just became a father. “Your mommy voice. The voice all mothers use when they talk to their children.”

                I can almost hear the way _m_ y mother squeals _“Wolfie~_ ” as she pounces at me with her arms open every time we meet. That sugary sweet, overly affectionate voice—

                “Yuuri,” I choke, “If I ever use that voice again, I want you to sock me over the head immediately. With your baseball bat.”

                He glares at me suspiciously. “Only if you agree to never have any more kids.”

                “Yuuri--”

                “That’s it, I’m moving into Murata’s room!”

                “Yuuri, you do know there’s something called contraception, right?” I sigh again, relenting. If I let him sleep elsewhere tonight, I’m fairly certain he’ll wake half the castle in the middle of the night screaming my name. That’s what happens when your husband is a wimp—who just happens to love you very, very much. “And you read that book, you should know how rare Mazoku pregnancies are. Especially male pregnancies.”

                “Because they’re dangerous.” His gaze softens a little, and I know what he’s thinking about. “I still haven’t forgiven you for hiding that from me when we first found out.”

                “I know.”

                “I was waiting for you to recover before I punished you for it.”

                “Mm-hm.”

                “I was so scared…”

`               “Yuuri.”

                “…That’s why I just want to appreciate what we have now.” He lets me wrap my arms around him, burying his face into my shoulder. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it? That you’re still here, that we managed to conceive at all, that we now have a healthy son in the nursery next door. There were so many times I thought one of you wouldn’t make it, and I’d be forced to choose, or risk losing both of you…”

                “Shh.” I rub his back consolingly. Sometimes he really is a big baby, still too young and inexperienced to take care of himself, much less a family. But I’ve known that since I met him, knew it when I married him, and still I was willing to risk my life to bear him a child. Still am, actually, if he’d just let me. “That didn’t happen, did it? We’re both here with you, we’re both safe and sound.”

                “I don’t want to have to go through that again,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Don’t make me do that again.”

                He raises his eyes, and the fear there is so intense, so real that I cannot say no.

                “…Okay.” For now.

                “And we’re using contraception from now on. I should have—I didn’t know--”

                “Fine.” But sometimes accidents can happen.

                “Wolf…”

                “Hmm?” I think I have some condoms in the drawer, maybe--

                “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” He sounds more exasperated than afraid or angry now, but I’m too lazy to lift my face from his broad chest.

                The next morning, I put my son in a dress in lieu of an answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes full round, thanks for all your support! Tomorrow I'll put up the epilogue, and hopefully we can dive straight into Part 3! 
> 
> I've kinda run out of *s, and I hope you don't mind. I do plan on revisiting the novels for translation purposes, after which there'll be an inevitable load of trivia I want to share, but for now I'd like to just go with my imagination :3


	15. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue, with tons of cute baby talk and Wolfram's cunning scheme~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of Part 2, thanks for everything! *bows*

“Mari! Come here!”

                “Catch me, Mama!”

                All the soldiers on their morning drills pause to smile at the blonde beauty chasing down the tiny figure in the adorable dress. Although when their officer drily comments that none of them can run faster than the two Highnesses, they immediately snap back to attention.

                Lord von Voltaire sighs. A year has passed, and he still thinks that I’m too young to be a mother. To be fair, a lot of people have mistaken us for sisters—

                “Caught you! And call me Daddy, not Mama!”

                “Only if Mama calls me Shinri, not Mari!”

                --instead of mother and son. Though technically, that might be my fault.

                “Mari is a nice name,” I sniffle. Somewhere along the way, I’ve gotten fond of it.

                “Godfather named me Shinri,” my son says seriously. “So Mama can call me Shinri, or Wil. But not Mari.”

                Just over a year after he was born, my baby looks like a small two-year-old, talks like a brilliant three-year-old, and has the energy of half a dozen sugar high four-year-olds. Damn, do they grow fast. “Mari is a girl’s name. Papa said so.”

                “It’s still your name, it’s just the way M—Daddy likes to say it.”

                He mimics my pout. “Then Mama is still Mama, so Shinri will call Mama ‘Mama’.”

                I can’t believe I understood that… “Mari! Don’t disturb your Uncle Gwen!”

                But too late, my son launches himself at his oldest uncle like a cannon shot. “Good morning, Uncle!”

                My lord brother catches his nephew expertly, reveling a little despite himself in his men’s stares of envy. “Hey, little one. That’s a pretty dress you’re wearing.”

                “But Shinri doesn’t like wearing dresses.” He throws his arms around Gwendal’s neck, gaze lowered and lip trembling. “Mama forced Shinri to wear a dress because Mama wanted a girl, but Shinri is a boy, so Mama wants to pretend Shinri is a girl by putting Shinri in girls’ clothes and calling Shinri a girl’s name…”

                “You know that’s not true.” The master of the von Voltaire lands melts like putty under that pitiful, teary gaze. “Your mother loves you just as you are, and you know it. Besides, don’t you have plenty of boys’ clothes, too? There’s nothing wrong with wearing something different once in a while.”

                Mazoku dressing standards were always rather lenient –Gurrier’s cause has loosened them even more in the recent years-- and no one could resist the sight of the perfect little prince dolled up with ribbons and lace. Unfortunately, Shinri seems to have inherited his father’s aversion to crossdressing.

                “Papa says little boys should play baseball and train with swords.” No, Shinri, that last part was what Uncle Conrad said. “Uncle Gwen, where’s Papa?”

                “Your father is in his office, but he’s busy.” Lord von Voltaire meets his nephew’s eyes solemnly. “So he can’t play with you now, okay?”

                Shinri nods, looking far too mature for his age. “I understand, Uncle. I just wanted to know where Papa is, s’ all.”

                His uncle smiles at him lovingly, using the tone he only uses on his kittens. “Good boy. Now go back to your mother before he comes over here and pulls you away by the ear.”

                “…Okay.” Somehow, that child is always so infuriatingly well-behaved with other people, balancing just the right mix of obedience with playfulness. But as soon as it came to me… “Shinri won’t disturb Uncle Gwen any more, but if Mama wants me he’ll have to catch me!”

                And he seems to have bypassed learning how to walk, running away from me as soon as he could stand on his own two feet.

 

It’s noon by the time I finally catch up to him.

                At the end it had taken me half a year to fully recover from the effects of pregnancy and childbirth, around which time Shinri started to bounce around the castle on a daily basis. Since then, I feel as though I’ve gotten even fitter than I was before he was conceived. I’m definitely lighter on my feet now, that much is sure.

                “Papa!”

                Shinri jumps out of the seat I had so painstakingly settled him in as soon as Yuuri pushes past the large dining hall doors.

                “Whoa, hey--” My husband and king laughs as he catches his son, spinning Shinri around. “You’ve gotten heavier again, haven’t you? Are you planning to be a sumo wrestler when you grow up?”

                “May-be~” Shinri giggles. He knows exactly what his Papa is talking about, of course. Ever since that time he ‘accidentally’ followed Yuuri back to Earth without suffering any side effects, we decided to raise him with respect to both sides of his heritage, like we did with his older sister. When he turns sixteen, the choice will be his—to live on Earth as Shibuya Shinri, or to embrace my clan and become my heir as Lord Wilfred von Bielefelt. Of course, there is always the possibility of him choosing both, or neither—

                “Shinri von Bielefelt just doesn’t sound right,” was Yuuri’s opinion. “And Shibuya Wilfred sounds like one of those stuck-up rich mixed kids.”

                I had felt inclined to point out that our son fit at least two of those three adjectives, and possibly the third as well when we weren’t looking.

                “Hey, Wolf.” Yuuri presses a light but affectionate kiss to my lips before we settle back into our seats. “How was your morning? I heard you guys had a lot of fun.”

                 I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “If you call chasing the little devil halfway around the castle compounds fun.”

                “Mama put me in a dress,” Shinri protests immediately. I had changed him out before lunch, but apparently he won’t let me forget it. “And called me Mari again!”

                “Uh... Mari is a nice name,” Yuuri quails under my glare. “And Shin-chan, you shouldn’t make your Mama run like that. You know he’s not feeling well.”

                To my disgust, Shinri just nods meekly. “Yes, Papa.”

                See, he’s a right little angel to Yuuri! And he practically adores his godfather. So why is he only so naughty when he’s with me? I know it’s beneath me to get upset over such a trivial matter as a toddler’s parental preference, but still I stab my steak with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

                Lunch commences in a semi-awkward silence. Yuuri obviously has something on his mind, and when he glances at us his gaze is unreadable. As for Shinri, he is already more than capable of feeding himself. Lord von Christ took it upon himself as Royal Tutor to teach his liege’s kids as well, taking over Greta’s Mazoku studies once Yuuri became slowly independent and crying tears of joy when Shinri somehow managed to potty train himself.

                That’s why, when Shinri politely excuses himself and jumps off his elevated seat, neither Yuuri nor I follow him to washroom. Once he’s out of earshot, though, we sigh simultaneously.

                _“I knew it, I’m not fit to be a parent yet.”_

                I break our surprised silence first. “What do you mean? You’re a great father. After all, he’s obviously much nicer to you than he is to me.”

                “He’s scared of me,” Yuuri practically whines, looking tearful. “He’s a lot closer to you, at least not as formal and polite as he is with me.”

                “That’s because he respects you, wimp.” My tone is resenting. “He takes advantage of me all the time. And take back what you said about me not feeling well, or I’ll challenge you to a duel right now to prove just how ‘all right’ I am.”

                “It’s been a while since you called me that,” Yuuri must be really tired, because he’s looking off into the distance with something akin to nostalgia. “You said you didn’t want to be a bad example to the kid, so you stopped.”

                “I tried to,” I correct him grumpily. “But I’m starting to think that whatever I do, he’ll do the opposite just to spite me.”

                “At least that shows he’s comfortable around you,” the father of my son throws his hands up in exasperation. “He just agrees to everything I say—as though I haven’t got enough of that, facing with those stuffy ministers all day!”

                There’s a moment of silence, then we both break into uncontrollable laughter. And as though I’m not struggling for air as it is, he pulls me close and kisses me fiercely, away from our son’s eyes.

                “Y’know, Yuuri…” I caress his cheek after we resurface, “If we had one more, then we wouldn’t have to fight for favorites.”

                “Not again, Wolf…”

                “Greta’s finding her own path now,” I continue on relentlessly, “Soon she’ll leave the castle, and then Shinri will be lonely--”

                “I don’t think he’s ever felt lonely for even a second since he was born, what with all the people trying to hug him all the time…”

                “—and we wouldn’t want him to grow up spoiled, so don’t you think it’s a good idea to give him a little sister to care for?”

                “Oh, Wolf…” Yuuri sighs, resting my head on his shoulder. “I understand you want another daughter, but don’t you think you should wait a while before having another? You know what having Shinri did to your body--”

                “My body is perfectly fine, and Giesela says there’s nothing wrong with getting--”

                “—and we should give Shinri some more time to enjoy being the baby of family, hmm? For all you know, he won’t appreciate having someone else steal his limelight.”

                I pause. “So you’re saying that if Shinri wants another sibling too, you might consider?”

                His smile is wry. “If I keep saying no, I’m scared you’ll find a way to get it done anyway-- only you’ll do it behind my back, which is even worse.”

                My ears start burning. It’s true that I did consider tampering with the contraceptives once, but… “I’d never do that. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

                “—What wouldn’t be fair, Mama?”

                We jump apart as though scalded when our adorable little son pokes his head between us.

 

I finish up my lunch in a considerably better mood, and even put my pride aside for a while to give my husband a particularly passionate good luck kiss in front of the soldiers and our son. Neither of them react, something I’m not sure I should be feeling pleased about.

                On the way to Lord von Christ’s office for Shinri’s classes, I ask my son casually, “M—Shinri, do you want a baby brother or sister?”

                He tilts his head to a side, large green eyes reflecting mine curiously. “Why, Mama?”

                “There’s no why, just--”

                “Even though it will hurt Mama?”

                I freeze.

                “I remember, Mama. Not everything, but some. I remember… hurting Mama. I remember Mama in pain.” His little hand tightens around mine. “I remember Papa’s voice, Papa crying. I made Papa cry, Mama. That’s why, I—I--”

                “Oh, baby…” I lift my beloved boy into my arms, letting him bury his face into my shoulders. His body is trembling, but when I smell the familiar, wonderful scent of his hair, my heart feels strangely calm. “None of that was your fault, Shinri. There were some bad guys, and Mama got careless, that’s all. In fact, Mama should have protected you better--”

                “No!” Shinri’s head snaps back up, his eyes wide but dry. He seldom cried, even as an infant. “Mama protected Shinri with your life, Shinri knows that! That’s why Papa doesn’t want Mama to have another baby, right? I don’t want a brother or sister either, not if Mama will die…”

                “I won’t die,” I tell him sternly. “Like I said, I was careless, and Granduncle Waltrana was a bigot. I promise, that won’t happen again. And besides,” I peck his cheek lightly, “I can’t bear to leave you and Papa behind, now, can I?”

                “Mama…”

                I have no idea how much this brilliant little baby of mine knows, or what’s going on with his extraordinary soul. And honestly, I don’t care. He’s my son, Yuuri’s firstborn, Greta’s baby brother, Gwendal and Conrad’s nephew, my mother’s first grandchild. He’s also the prince of the Shin Makoku, but I don’t really care about that either. Nothing else matters.

                “If you have a baby sister, I promise I’ll stop putting you in dresses.” Though I really am fond of the name Mari. “And then Mama will have even more reasons not to do anything stupid, because there’s no way your wimpy Papa can raise you both.”

                “Papa’s a wimp…” he giggles. “Okay, but Mama must promise?”

                “I swear,” I say with all the seriousness of signing an international contract, “that for you, Papa, your big sis, and any other siblings you may have in the future, I will do my best not to die... but I can’t promise I’ll never die.”

                After all, no one lives forever.

                “That’s good enough.” Shinri nods, understanding without having to be told what no one-year-old should know. “Okay, what do I have to do?”

                I smile craftily. “Tonight, when you see Papa, I want you to…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: Where I come from, 'Mari' means 'come here!' xDD Somehow I'd fallen in love with my own original child character, hehe... 
> 
> Don't worry, Part 3 will run parallel with this one at first, but you'll get to see more of this happy family too. I mean, I know I've grown rather fond of 'em... And Part 3 will need it, because I get the feeling that there'll be a whole lot of angst and a lot less fluff...


End file.
